The Paths Intertwined
by TheCivilizedCaveman
Summary: Year 201, 4E: The frozen province of Skyrim becomes a place where the paths of four different individuals cross: a young Imperial aiming to start a new life, a Wood elf wandering across Tamriel since a tragedy struck her home, a veteran Legionnaire with a burning hatred of the Aldmeri Dominion and a Nightwalker that rebelled against her creator. More detailed summary inside.
1. I) Welcome home?

Author's note: _Greetings to all readers,_

 _First off, this story is meant to be a complete rewrite of the previous fanfic_ Skyrim: Paths Of Fate _; I wasn't satisfied with its overall quality so I had abandoned it and recently decided to re-do it from scratch (mostly). The two main characters remain, although I altered their backstory and personalities a bit, which should be more prominent in later chapters. It should follow the path set by the previous fanfic but the pacing will be faster with less detailed descriptions to make the plot advance quicker. I included a few more OC's (two of them are based on my actual game characters) that will be only remotely involved with the main characters._

 _As in the case of the earlier TES fanfic, I decided to write this because I love the world of Tamriel with its detailed, almost Tolkien-like lore (at least in my opinion) and Skyrim is one of my favorite games. I only hope my fanfic will do the TES world justice..._

 _Warning: extremely slow updates (for most of my free time, I'll probably be doing multiple things at once and my priorities lie with other fanfics), rated T for language, violence and adult themes, non-explicit for now (may raise it to M later on), multiple OC's and POV (I'll do my best not to make it too confusing), occasional butchering of English language (I'm from Czech Republic so sorry in advance)_

 _And finally, a disclaimer: Everything with the exception of OC's belongs to Bethesda Game Studios._

 _Please enjoy the reading; as always I'll appreciate any kind of feedback, be it positive or negative._

* * *

Chapter 1 – Welcome home?

 _Morning of 17_ _th_ _Last Seed, Helgen_

The very first thing I felt after waking up was a splitting headache, like if I got trampled by a rabid troll. The strong feeling of utter disorientation was another story entirely; for the love of the Nine I couldn't remember why I passed out in the first place and even worse, why I was being carted off to gods-know-where clothed only in rough itchy rags, where all of my things had gone, why I was bound like a lowly criminal with only five other similarly restrained fellows as a company, and why all the Imperial soldiers around us were grinning like if they had struck a gold vein.

 _When in Oblivion had everything gone so wrong?_

Suddenly, a voice interrupted my thoughts. "Hey, you! Finally awake, I see." The Nord man in a brown-and-blue armor of some sorts spoke to me. He had long blonde hair and a short beard and he actually looked concerned about me. He appeared to be some kind of soldier; before crossing the borders I heard about some unrest in the North but attached little importance to it. Had I known things were that bad I would've reconsidered my past choices.

"How long was I out?" I grumbled, shaking my head trying to clear my still somewhat blurry vision. My headache dulled a bit and now I could take a good look at my company. On the opposite side of the wagon beside the blonde Nord sat a skinny man in rags with an expression mixed between fear and irritation. Beside him sat a black-haired High Elf female clothed in a black armored robe, if you could call it that, and she looked royally pissed. Slumped against my side lay a familiar Wood Elf woman, the same I met while making my way through the Pale Pass. I remembered she had struggled when the Imperials arrested us (for what, I still had no idea) and they knocked her unconscious. The last captive was a grim looking Nord with graying hair and a goatee; he wore rather expensive looking clothes and, unlike any of us, had a gag stuffed in his mouth.

"Not even for an hour. They probably didn't thrash you as hard as your Wood Elf friend over there. Damn Imperials…" The uniformed Nord answered bitterly. "So, you were trying to cross the borders, kinsman? And walked right into the Imperial ambush, like the rest of us?"

It didn't escape me that the blonde mistook me for a Nord when I was in fact from Cyrodiil. I inherited my Nord looks after my father; born in Solitude, he left to Cyrodiil to join the Imperial Legion when he came of age. He fought in a war with Aldmeri Dominion and fell in the battle of Red Ring at the very end of the conflict, mere months before I was born. As for my mother, she he was an Imperial, but in many ways she was very much like dad. Like him, she revered Talos, so when the worship of Talos was banned by the White Gold Concordat, she lost the faith in the Empire and its ruler. A few years after the end of war, we moved from a city of Cheydinhal to a small village near Bruma.

The life in the countryside was quiet enough but only until the Aldmeri Dominion resorted to more direct methods of rooting out Talos worship. People were being kidnapped, secretly and without warning, and no one was doing a damn thing about it. It became apparent Cyrodiil was not safe for us anymore; I and my mother began our preparations to leave Cyrodiil as soon as we could. While mother was saving money and supplies for our voyage to Skyrim, I was learning everything that I deemed useful such as fighting, archery, smithing and even some less advanced restoration magics. Mother even stopped visiting the local shrine of Talos in order not to attract attention, but in the end it didn't save her from the Thalmor Justiciars. Thanks to some "loyal citizen of the Empire" who was way too eager to earn some quick coin, my mother was arrested and dragged away. That happened about a month ago. There was no way of saving her; once the Thalmor nab you, it's the end of the line.

It would have been better if I had stayed a while longer to earn some more coin while working as a blacksmith's apprentice but I was worried the elves would go after me next so I packed up and left the village, never looking back. So much for all our planning…

I had travelled mostly on foot because I didn't want to spend money on carriages. The journey that would last four days by carriage drew out to more than two weeks but gods be praised, I made it to the borders without any accidents. That was where I met the Wood Elf that eventually became my fellow captive. She was battling a small group of bandits when I found her; even though she seemed more than able to handle herself I helped her fight off the attackers. After the battle we agreed to travel together for a while. There was no trouble between us but her really quiet nature was a bit unnerving.

Soon enough we crossed the borders into the Falkreath hold in Skyrim. It was that moment when my luck ran out. We happened to run into a convoy of blue uniformed soldiers that shortly afterwards got ambushed by Imperial soldiers. That led to us being captured and arrested alongside the rebel soldiers; like if that wasn't enough, the bastards confiscated everything we possessed.

And as you surely know, the rest is history.

Lost in thoughts, I misheard my fellow captive's question. The blonde Nord sighed and nudged me with his hands. "Hey, are you listening, brother?"

"What?!" I snapped, not in the mood to talk.

The blonde soldier raised his bound hands in surrender. "Hey, no need to get all snappy with me. We'd rather not be here either, you know?"

The skinny Nord spoke up, appearing none too pleased by the recent development. "Damn you Stormcloaks! Skyrim was fine until you came along – Empire was nice and lazy. If they weren't looking for you, I could've stolen the damn horse and been halfway to Hammerfell!"

"You deserve to be here, horse thief, along with the rebels!" The High Elf snapped, her voice dripping in contempt, jerking her head towards me and my companion. "I and those two over there are the ones who should be complaining!"

The Nord snorted. "It doesn't matter. We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, elf."

The Legionnaire driving the wagon looked over his shoulder, still keeping his eyes on the bumpy road. "Shut up back there!"

The High Elf stood up, her face contorted in ire. "Come here and say that directly to my face, little man!" She shouted at the driver only to be completely ignored.

The woman beside me groaned slightly as she was regaining consciousness.

"What's up with this one anyway?" The thief asked with disdain, pointing at the gagged fellow.

The Nord soldier scowled at the thief and opened his mouth to speak, but the High Elf beat him to it. "This man is Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm and the leader of the Stormcloak rebellion." She explained. "I'd expect you to know that, given how much trouble he had caused."

At first, the thief stared with his mouth agape but then started panicking once he realized something. "Wait. If he got captured, then… oh Gods, where are they taking us?" Meanwhile, the rebel soldier was glaring daggers at the High Elf.

She didn't appear disturbed by the Nord's stare. "Glare all you want, Nord, it won't change the truth. Ulfric murdered the High King and thus betrayed the Empire and his own land. He will suffer the consequences of his actions and his motives won't change anything about that."

"I don't expect you to understand our plight, elf." The soldier snorted derisively.

"Right now, I'm only concerned about who is in charge of this bunch of imbeciles!" The High Elf retorted. "I can't believe how much the Legion had degraded since the Great War! Arresting civilians without a proper investigation; if something like this happened 25 years ago, those responsible for such a blunder would get strung up!"

"By the Nine what are you on about?" I exclaimed exasperatedly. The Wood Elf finally sat up, nursing the wound on her temple.

To my surprise, the blonde Nord smiled. "It's nice to see someone who hasn't forsaken the true faith."

"Be glad there aren't any Justiciars around here." The High Elf remarked. "It's bad enough we gave the Dominion a free victory, now we have to let them wander around our territory." The gagged Nord muttered something but thanks to the rag in his mouth the words came out as a muffled gibberish. "And to top it all off, it seems that the Legion is arresting everyone that looks at them wrong. One time I leave the College and what happens is this?! I get arrested for simply being near the ambush site? This is absolutely preposterous!"

"I know how you feel." I remarked. I didn't really hate the Empire, even after signing the damn Concordat. But it has been 26 years and instead of recovering its strength, the Empire seemed to sink deeper into the mud. Today's events were a clear proof of that.

Our little captive society fell silent for a while, before our Wood Elf companion spoke up. "Where are we being taken?"

Blonde Stormcloak hung his head. "I have no idea, but I have a feeling Sovngarde awaits us." He replied solemnly.

"No! This can't be happening; this isn't happening!" The thief started babbling in fright once he understood the implication. Even though I didn't show it, I was unsettled myself; I didn't know much about Nordic traditions and beliefs but the way the Stormcloak said it just didn't bode well.

The Wood Elf caught on too, to my surprise. "Are they going to kill us?" She asked silently, looking straight at me.

Before I could say anything, the High Elf gave a contemptuous snort. "The Nords will be making nice with outlanders first before I let that happen." Her remark earned her a furious scowl from the Nords.

"Where are you from, people?" The blond Stormcloak asked after a moment of silence.

"Why do you care?" The thief snapped back.

"Nord's last thoughts should be of home." Stormcloak replied with a calming voice, seemingly in peace with whatever might come in the next few hours.

"I…" The thief stammered. "Rorikstead, I'm from Rorikstead."

"Cheydinhal." I said.

Stormcloak smirked lightly. "Cyrodiil, huh?"

"Long story." I answered bluntly.

"What about you, Wood Elf?"

The woman didn't reply at once. She looked around the trees surrounding the path and then whispered. "Falinesti."

I heard murmuring of people in the distance. I turned around and saw the convoy with prisoners entering a fortified village. Some of the Imperial soldiers were guarding the main gate while the others accompanied our convoy. I also noticed a few horsemen as well. One of them was clothed in a distinctive uniform of an imperial high-ranking officer. One of his subordinates was just giving him a report.

"General Tullius, sir, the headsman is waiting!"

"Good. Let's get this over with."

The thief started freaking out over a mention of a headsman. "Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh…Divines, help me!" I rolled my eyes. That man behaved like he was the only one to be executed, which didn't help us feel better about our fate.

The Stormcloak nudged me and pointed at the general that was just speaking to a black robed Elf. "You see that? That's general Tullius, the military governor. And he's got the Thalmor with him. I bet those damn Elves had something to do with this." He spat with disdain. So my journey was pointless, I thought to myself; even Skyrim was infested with those Alinor bastards.

"General?! _He_ commands this pathetic excuse for a unit?" The High Elf snarled in outrage. I noticed she began channeling magic into the ropes that restrained her. "I'm going to have a long talk with this _gentleman_!"

"Wait, what are you gonna-" Before I finished the sentence, her bonds simply snapped; the remains of the ropes fell onto the wagon's floor, smoking slightly. She hopped off the cart, eliciting cries of alarm from the soldiers.

The both wagons stopped at once. "Is she trying to get herself killed?!" The Wood Elf whispered, her eyes darting between the High Elf and Legionnaires clustering around her. At that point, the Thalmor officers were long gone, not bothering to stick around.

The High Elf strode purposefully towards the general, who seemed to notice the racket, ignoring the soldiers that tried to stop her. Only when a poorly aimed arrow bounced off the ground before her, she cast a Magic Armor spell on herself. Another arrow flew and struck its mark but instead of causing harm it simply ricocheted off her skin.

She cast a glare at one of the archers. "Do that again and I _will_ burn your face off!" Then she turned her attention to the Imperials that shouted at her to surrender. "Come any closer and you'll regret it!" The High Elf was probably still alive only because no one anticipated a prisoner to simply burn off their binds and march towards their commanding officer. I was completely flabbergasted by the whole spectacle; she was either incredibly confident or outright suicidal.

"What in Oblivion is going on here?!" General Tullius shouted and approached the High Elf with his sword drawn.

"I should be asking you this, _General_!" She retorted angrily. "Have your men never heard about something called a "due process"? Because only this seems to explain why three innocents were arrested alongside rebel forces! Or is this unit really that incompetent?!"

"This "incompetent" unit succeeded in capturing the most wanted criminal in Skyrim!" Tullius said boastfully. "And I don't think some civilian gets to tell me how to lead my own soldiers!"

The High Elf's lips curved into a smirk. "Your standards must be really low, Tullius. If this was 30 years ago, this unit would be a laughingstock of the entire Legion!"

In the meantime, we watched the entire conversation with various degrees of interest, with the exception of the thief who was too busy soiling his underpants with fear. The rebel soldier's expression was a mix between contempt and amusement, while Jarl Ulfric seemed to be chuckling. It was really hard to discern thanks to the gag in his mouth.

The general scowled at the insult. "You seem to forget that I have more than fifty men here, waiting at my command, and personally, I'm finding this exchange to be very tiring. So you have one chance to explain yourself before I'll have you riddled with arrows!"

The High Elf snorted. "Very well, _General_ , here's your answer." She made a theatrical pause before continuing. "My name is Elaith Gernanne, born in Daggerfall 4E 25; spellsword, joined the Imperial Legion in 4E 81; was stationed at various posts across the Empire, including Elsweyr, Hammerfell and Skyrim; fought against the Dominion in the Great War; reached the rank of Legate and was released from active duty in 4E 176; and currently I'm in the employ of the College of Winterhold." The now identified veteran Legionnaire took in the shocked stares of soldiers around her. "Does this suffice?"

To his credit, Tullius recovered pretty quickly from the initial shock. "Back to your duties soldiers! You, move the damn wagons to the square!" Our cart began moving forward. Then the general approached the elven Legate. "On behalf of the Legion of the Mede Empire, I extend my apologies for the inconvenience-" That was all I heard before the rattling of wooden wheels across the paved path drowned his voice out.

"Where are we?" I asked, looking around the village.

"This is Helgen." The Stormcloak answered with a nostalgic undertone. "I used to be sweet on a girl from here. I wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in." He paused for a moment. "It's funny. When I was a kid, the Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel safe."

"The Empire ain't what it used to be." I muttered. The entire war with the Dominion, sacking of the Imperial City and the demeaning terms of the Concordat really did a number on the Empire.

As our convoy moved through Helgen, villagers were staring at us. Most of them were just talking among themselves; others were pointing at us, laughing and jeering. A few children peeked curiously from their homes, but parents shouted at them to stay inside. None of us said a word, except the thief, who was praying to whatever gods he revered. Then our cart arrived at the village square where several Imperials were already waiting. A high tower dominated the whole place, but that was the last thing that interested me. In front of the tower… there was a chopping block, and right next to it stood a headsman with priestess of Arkay. So we were going to be executed; I never expected my journey to end like this.

Our cart came to a halt. "Why are we stopping?" The thief shrieked.

"Why do you think?" Stormcloak retorted as the legionnaires started forcing us off the wagon. "End of the line. Let's go, we don't want to keep the gods waiting."

I had no other choice but to stand up and follow the other prisoners. I was afraid, we all were, but we still took our fate better than the horse thief who wouldn't shut up about him not being a rebel.

"Face your death with some damn courage, thief." The Stormcloak growled at the thief, effectively silencing him.

We stood before a helmeted female officer and her subordinate, who held a list, probably with names of prisoners. "Step towards the block when we call your name, one at the time!" The Imperial woman commanded.

"The Empire loves their damn lists." The Stormcloak grumbled.

The low-ranked soldier started reading the names. "Ulfric Stormcloak, the Jarl of Windhelm!" The rebel king separated from us and walked to the block.

The Stormcloak bowed his head, murmuring "It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric."

"Ralof of Riverwood!" The blonde Stormcloak followed his leader without a word.

"Lokir of Rorikstead!"

The thief snapped. "NO! I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!" Instead falling in line with others, he decided to run for his life. He ran past the officer and to the gate. The officer yelled at him to stop, but he ignored her. "You're not going to kill me!"

"Archers!"

Lokir the thief suddenly fell to the ground when several arrows hit his back. He didn't move. I noticed Legate Gernanne walking past the thief's corpse; the Elf managed to settle her dispute with Tullius peacefully, given that they gave her back her belongings, including the sword on her belt. The officer turned back to us with a satisfied smirk. "Anyone else feels like running?" She asked smugly.

The soldier with a list suddenly looked at me and said. "You there, step forward." Then he turned to the elven woman beside me. "You too, Wood Elf." He sized us up. "Who are you?"

I exhaled sharply before answering. "My name is Farlas Bormirsson, from the city of Cheydinhal."

"You would've been better off staying in Cyrodiil, citizen." The soldier mused briefly, and then looked at my Wood Elf companion. "And you?"

"Falaere of Falinesti." She croaked, her voice faltering.

"Valenwood is far away from here. What are you doing alone in Skyrim, anyway?" The Imperial said and turned to his superior. "What should we do? They are not on our list."

"Is there a problem?" The High Elf Legate said as she approached the Captain.

"Nothing important, just two of the prisoners scheduled for execution are not present on the list." The Captain said dismissively. "The list is a mere formality, anyway. If we don't put the down now, someone else will do that later." _That callous bitch!_ The Captain's attitude had me gritting my teeth in rage. Were it not for the bindings, I would've probably punched her.

"Mere formality?" Legate Gernanne said incredulously. "I don't know where you have been trained, but as much as I dislike paperwork, it is here for a reason. If they aren't on the list, then a proper interrogation is in order; if you ignore that, not only you're violating their rights for a due process but you're also overstepping your powers. Do you realize what position this puts you into?"

The Captain seemed to shrink under the Elf's glare. "How is this any of your business? Haven't you retired or something?" She snapped in a last attempt to save her face.

"Once you join the Legion, you're in it for life." The Legate replied simply. "I may not be on active duty but I am still a part of the Legion and I _do_ outrank you. Keep this up and you'll end up on latrine duty for the rest of your damn life!" Instead of fighting back, the Captain simple excused herself and stormed away, beet red with anger and embarrassment. The Legate shook her head in disbelief and looked at the soldier with the list. "Is there any place in here where I could conduct an interrogation without being disturbed?"

"The tower over there is usually empty. I believe it should suffice." He replied, pointing at a smaller tower sitting in between the inn and a smaller house.

"Thank you soldier; you're dismissed." The Legate laid her gaze on us. "You two, come with me."

* * *

 _Elaith_

 _Scandalous, absolutely scandalous…_

I let out a frustrated sigh as I led the Imperial and the Bosmer to the empty tower for interrogation. Ever since the Great War, things in the Empire had been going downhill. Who in their right mind would execute an uninvolved person without a second thought and consider it a standard procedure?! And as the fate would have it, I happened to be captured while on my way back to the College from the Imperial City, my first journey outside Skyrim in years! Maybe I should've never left Winterhold but if I didn't, these imbeciles would kill those two and no one would give a damn.

 _Back to the matters at hand,_ I thought, reminding myself of my current task. Even though there was no way the two captives had anything to do with the rebels, I couldn't simply let them go, not before conducting a proper investigation. The inside of the tower was furnished with only a table and a few crates. _This will have to do, I guess._ I ordered the captives to sit on the crates while I remained standing.

The Bosmer was the first to speak once I closed the door behind us. "No torture tools?"

"Don't be stupid." I shot back. "You'll never get good information by torture; at one point, the victim will admit to anything to make the pain stop."

"Then what's the point of keeping us here?" The Imperial asked.

"Why, for questioning, of course! Innocent or not, it's still suspicious when a civilian happens to stumble right into an ambush, especially one that ends with capturing the rebel leader."

"I haven't done anything!" The Bosmer protested. "I was just passing by when your lot caught me and robbed me blind like some bandits!"

"One of our lot pulled you right from under the headsman's axe, so it wouldn't hurt you to show some gratitude!" I snapped irritatedly. That seemed to shut the girl up. "Now, did you even know who you had run into before the ambush?"

They both shook their heads in denial. "I heard about some unrest in Skyrim but I didn't think those guys would be rebels!" The Imperial objected. "How did you get caught anyway?"

"I'll be asking the questions here." I shot back. "Why would the two of you travel to Skyrim of all places?"

"Hey, I'm looking for a quiet life in my dad's homeland; I've no interest in becoming involved with the rebellion!"

"I sincerely hope so. I would be far less inclined to help you should you throw in your lot with these Stormcloaks." I replied bluntly before shifting my attention to the Bosmer. "And what of you? Why venture so far to the frozen Northern end of Tamriel?"

The elven woman simply stared pointedly ahead in silence.

"I have asked you a question, _girl_!" Despite my warning, she was dead set on ignoring me. Now, I don't usually resort to violent methods but I was half tempted to use a shock spell to get her to acknowledge my presence. But then a sudden commotion outside distracted me from my current task. I went to look outside to see what was going on.

At the moment, I had no idea that the sight that awaited me would be etched into my mind forever.

The entire village had descended into chaos as some black lizard-like winged creature landed on top of the tower near the chopping block. Its body was covered in razor sharp scales and huge spikes were protruding from its back. The thing glowered with its menacing red eyes at the villagers that, overcome with fear, fled to their homes while some of the soldiers recovered from the shock and began shooting arrows. The prisoners… well, those had no chance of surviving as they were completely defenseless. The black monster raised its ugly horned head and let out a terrifying roar.

And moments later, it began raining fire. _Literally._

Now, I would be lying if I said I wasn't scared by that display of power. But as a Legionnaire and loyal servant of the Empire, I knew my duty; to stop whatever this thing was from devouring the entire village.

I drew my sword and turned at the two captives I had been questioning. "Whatever happens, do _not_ leave this tower!" Not waiting for their answer, I charged into the raging battle.

* * *

 _Falaere_

As soon as the Legate vanished out of sight, I had a sinking feeling something was very wrong. I realize it seems ironic, considering I was arrested, robbed of all my stuff, and nearly put on a chopping block, all of that for no good reason, but it was just there in the wind, a sense of foreboding that things would only get worse… if the Legate abruptly leaving in the middle of questioning was any indication.

She didn't even leave us a knife to cut the ropes that bound us.

Suddenly the door slammed open and a group of rebels stumbled inside the tower; most of them were wounded, covered in slashes, bruises and… burns? Out of curiosity I leaned forward to get a glimpse of the outside through the open door.

The village was on fire, with bloodied corpses strewn across the square.

"What in Auri-El's name…"

Then Jarl Ulfric himself barged into the tower, dragging Ralof, the Stormcloak from our wagon, with him.

Farlas, the fellow captive, stared wide eyed at the number of wounded around him. "By Akatosh's scaly backside, what is going on here?"

"A dragon!" Ralof screamed. "A gods-damned dragon is out there, burning Helgen and killing people!"

"How in the- I thought the dragons were just a legend!"

"Legends don't burn down villages." Ulfric retorted. The tower shook violently and we were showered by stones. "We need to get out of here, now!"

"Would someone cut our bindings first?" I shouted back. I didn't like the thought of me running across the burning village with my hands still tied.

"No time for that! If we linger here too long we're all dead!" Ralof snapped back and pointed at the spiral staircase. "Up the stairs, quickly!" Halfway up the tower there was a huge hole in the wall and fallen stonework was blocking the stairs. Two rebel soldiers were trying to remove the obstacle when all of a sudden a black scaly head of a dragon peered inside the tower, letting out a huge torrent of fire and burning the soldiers alive before flying off. Were it not for Ralof pulling us back, we would have been dead.

Through the hole, we could see a large half-crumbled house next to the tower. "See the inn on the other side? That's our way out!" Ralof shouted, pointing at the ruined house. "Just jump on the roof, I'll go right behind you!" I nodded and jumped to the inn's roof, landing safely on my feet. Farlas wasn't so lucky for the weakened roof collapsed right under him but thankfully he hadn't hurt himself too badly.

Suffice to say, the next several minutes were a blur, mostly involving running away from a rampaging dragon. We soon lost the sight of Ralof but then we ran into the Imperial officer responsible for the list of prisoners. Thanks to his assistance, we managed to get safely to the keep. Meanwhile, the Legionnaires fought the vicious winged beast in an effort to save the village. It was a hopeless battle though. The black dragon seemed invincible and paid no mind to the arrows raining upon it; worse, no shelter was capable of shielding the villagers from the beast's fiery rage. Helgen was doomed. There was not a single house left untouched and streets and alleys were covered in dead bodies. The air smelled like smoke and death and cries of people being slaughtered could be heard everywhere.

"It's just us, prisoners! Stay close!" Our protector shouted as he ran forward, not looking back. We passed under the archway into the keep's courtyard. Whatever was left of the Imperial unit was still fighting the dragon while attempting to retreat. General Tullius was among them and so was Legate Gernanne, tossing bolts of lightning at the beast while evading gouts of fire. All of a sudden the dragon swooped down on her and slammed its legs into her, sending her flying into one of the burning houses. Not even a hardened veteran stood a chance against the winged horror.

"By the Gods, this is like Oblivion on Nirn!" The Imperial yelled, not daring to look back. "Come on, we can't stop now!"

Finally after what seemed to be hours we made it inside the keep. The stone keep gave us a chance to rest for a while but we were not out of danger yet.

* * *

 _Farlas_

As soon as he closed the door behind us, our Legionnaire companion, Hadvar, sat heavily on the floor, panting with exhaustion. "Looks like we're the only ones who made it." He muttered groggily, looking around the room with numerous beds. "Ysmir's beard, I can't believe this… A dragon, a thrice-damned dragon, a bringer of the End times…"

"I sincerely hope the last one isn't true…" I said, voicing my thoughts on the matter.

"I hear ya." Hadvar stood up and picked up a dagger from a table nearby. "We should keep moving. Come here; let me see if I can get these bindings off."

Moments after, the ropes around our hands fell off. I was glad to finally be rid of the bonds and so was Falaere the Wood Elf; now if I could find the stuff Imperials confiscated while arresting us that would be perfect… "I won't have you running around in those rags. Take a look around; there should be a plenty of gear in here. I'm going to try and find something for these burns."

Indeed one of the chests contained several sets of imperial armor, both light and heavy variants. I donned the heavy armor while the Elf took the light; if I had to fight anyone on our way out, I'd prefer fighting in something that actually offered some protection. Of course as any well-mannered individual I turned the other way when Falaere was putting on her armor. After grabbing some swords from a rack, we were good to go.

Hadvar led us through the vacant corridors of the keep. After coming through a portcullis we arrived in a circular room… and ran straight into a familiar face. "Shor's bones you're alive?!" The lone Stormcloak exclaimed when he noticed us. "And what are you doing in the company of that traitor?"

"Yeah, you're among the last persons I want to see right now, Ralof." Hadvar shot back coldly.

"Wait, so you two know each other?" Falaere asked.

"Unfortunately." Ralof snorted in disgust. "We were best of friends until the civil war broke out and I joined the Stormcloaks. I chose to fight for freedom while Hadvar sided with a weak Empire that is perfectly content with us bending to the Elves!"

"Seriously? That's what Ulfric has been filling your head with?" Hadvar exclaimed incredulously. "The man doesn't care about Skyrim's people or Talos; he wants the High King's throne, nothing more!"

"Typical Imperial propaganda!" Ralof spat out. "Resorting to lies so they could keep their subjects!" _By the gods…_ Who knows how much time we've got before the dragon brings the keep down on us and they'd spend it arguing with each other like an old married couple?!

Before I knew it I found myself screaming. "Cut this horseshit, you two!" Others jumped in start at the sheer volume of my voice. "In case you didn't notice, there's a dragon on a loose out there; we should be focusing on getting out of here not arguing who's right or not! You two don't like each other, we get that, but could you please slaughter each other _after_ we're out of here?"

Ralof and Hadvar glanced at each other. "Alright, you've made your point. I can set my grievances aside if he's willing to do the same." Hadvar said finally, jerking his head towards his estranged friend.

"A true son of Skyrim never goes back on his word." Ralof answered curtly. "If Hadvar's gonna play nice then so will I."

"Yeah, yeah." Hadvar rolled his eyes. "I just hope we won't run into some of my comrades."

 _At least they are sensible,_ I thought to myself. "Okay, if that's settled, let's move on shall we?" My companions nodded in response.

It was time to get out of Helgen before the dragon brought the keep down on our heads.

* * *

 _Edited on 31st October 2015_


	2. II) Escape

Chapter 2 – Escape

 _Falaere_

 _Midday of 17_ _th_ _Last Seed_

Finding our way out of the keep was more difficult than I expected. Hadvar had said there was an escape route just in case events required it, but whoever designed the keep hadn't obviously counted in a dragon attack. The beast was so powerful it managed to collapse the keep's underground passageways on more than one occasion; the first time, we all nearly got buried under the rubble. As if we didn't have enough trouble on our hands, we got (un)lucky enough to run into a pair of Legionnaires in a storeroom. The two immediately started questioning us when they took notice of Ralof. Fortunately for us, Hadvar was a quick thinker and on a fly he made up a story about Ralof being a defector, much to the Stormcloak's displeasure; the Imperial soldiers seemed to buy the story and let us pass without any problems and even allowed us to take some supplies.

Our way through the keep led us into a torture chamber. An Imperial torturer was too busy tormenting a rebel woman shackled to the wall to even notice us entering the room. Ralof was understandably revolted by the sight, as were all of us. Ralof remained out of the old man's sight; as much as he obviously wished to snap the bastard's neck, he thought his presence could cause a confrontation.

"There's a dragon on the loose out there! Why haven't you retreated along with others?" Hadvar demanded, prompting the torturer to look away from his "work".

The torturer gave an amused snort, paying no mind to the pained gasps of his victim. "A dragon? Don't be ridiculous. Though I did hear some strange noises coming from over there?"

"Yeah, that was the dragon tearing your fellow soldiers apart!" Farlas snapped. "And you chose to mutilate prisoners instead of helping to defend the village?"

The elder man scowled. "I don't know who you are but you'd do well to watch your tongue, _boy_."

"He's right; we could've used your talents outside, old man." Hadvar said coldly. "Helgen has fallen and we're retreating. You should come with us." I could see Ralof shaking in rage at Hadvar's suggestion.

The torturer scoffed. "That's a very generous suggestion but I'm afraid I still have some work to get done." He jerked his head towards the bloodied woman in shackles.

"Are you crazy?" Hadvar spat out incredulously. "I said the keep is under attack!"

The old man took a step forward, his wrinkled face contorted in a frown. "I don't think you understood, boy. I'd rather die first than let some snot-faced wannabe-soldier order me around!"

It was at that point when Farlas decided he heard enough.

With a surprising speed he pulled out the sword and rammed it hilt deep into the torturer's chest. The old man's shocked gasp came out as a strangled gurgle due to blood rapidly filling his mouth. "Should've been careful what you wish for, you sick whoreson." Farlas growled as he watched the life fade from the torturer's eyes. He tore his blade out and let the corpse fall to the floor.

Just the act of killing the old man in cold blood had me frozen in shock but Hadvar's reaction was even more unexpected. "To think this scum call themselves Legionnaires… I wish we didn't need the likes of him." The soldier remarked as he stood over the torturer's body.

"If he wouldn't kill the bastard, I would." Ralof said as he walked to the captive woman and released her from the shackles. The tortured woman slumped into the Stormcloak's arms. "I need some healing potions! She won't survive without them!"

"I believe I can help." Farlas said; his palms were filled with the glow of a healing spell.

Ralof took notice and frowned. "I said healing potions; I didn't ask you to magic her!" That reminded me of the fact that the Nords don't particularly trust magic… or mages, for that matter.

Hadvar rolled his eyes. "For Shor's sake, Ralof, let the man heal her! We only have a few potions to spare."

Farlas decided against waiting for Ralof's consent and kneeled beside the torture victim. He closed his eyes and let the magicka fuel the healing spell. The woman gasped as the bloodied wounds on her body slowly started closing up while in the meantime Hadvar kept a firm hold on Ralof's shoulder, just in case the Stormcloak decided to do anything rash. She gave Farlas a surprised yet grateful look not expecting an Imperial to help her.

"I'll stay with her, until she regains enough strength to walk." Ralof offered.

"And risk getting jumped by Imperial soldiers? You'd both be safer coming with us." I suggested. "Have her drink a few potions and take the torturer's uniform; that way Hadvar's story about you being a defector will still be plausible."

"That is a pretty good idea." Hadvar agreed. And thus we went along with my suggestion. Even after drinking a few potions, the rebel woman still struggled to get into the Imperial torturer's outfit, but with a bit of help she managed to get herself dressed.

As we pressed on through the keep, Farlas and I were looking for our gear the soldiers had confiscated earlier. Alas, we didn't find anything; the most plausible possibility was that our things remained on the surface and got destroyed along with the village. So we scavenged anything of value that could be sold later at a good price while searching for the way out of the keep. Along the way we ran into another squad of Legionnaires; even though they regarded Ralof the "turncoat" with a degree of suspicion, they let us go freely. The passageways led us into caves; for a moment we considered going back because the caves could be a dead end but the corridor collapsing right behind us forced us to keep going forward. The dark, dank cave gave out an unnerving impression and skeletons littered around the passageways made it even worse. As we moved forward we ran into a nest of frostbite spiders; while Ralof and his wounded comrade hung back the rest of us dealt with the wretched disgusting things before they could overwhelm us.

However, as if he hadn't enough trouble, mere moments later we stumbled upon a mother bear with a cub.

Now, the bear would tear us apart if she deemed us a threat. Fortunately, my people were gifted with the ability to "communicate" with wildlife, whether it be to keep it from attacking us or make it fight in our defense. Thanks to that, we were able to get past her.

And that was when we saw a bright light at the end of a seemingly endless passageway.

"That's it! That's the exit!" Hadvar cried out in relief. "I knew we'd make it out of here!"

Longing for freedom and sunlight we ran out of the cave and almost failed to notice the dragon passing over our heads.

"Look out!" Hadvar hissed a warning, dragging all of us into nearby bushes. We were damn lucky that the winged monster didn't notice us and kept flying eastwards.

"By the gods, what was that?" The woman from the torture chamber asked, staring wide eyed at the dragon.

"A dragon. It interrupted the execution and razed Helgen to the ground." Ralof said mournfully. "We're damn lucky to survive." Noticing her puzzled expression, he asked. "How long were you down there?"

"I… I don't know." The woman shook her head. "I can't remember."

"What's your name, lass?"

"Lilija… Lilija Snow-Shod, from Riften."

"The thing's gone, we can come out now." Hadvar said as he carefully watched the horizon in case the dragon decided to come back.

Ralof nodded and turned back to the woman. "We should get moving, Lilija. This place is soon gonna be crawling with the Imperials looking for survivors." Lilija simply gave an affirmative nod in response.

"What should we do now?" Farlas asked as we walked down the path.

"My uncle Alvor lives in Riverwood, a small village not far from here. I'm sure he'd help you out." Hadvar suggested.

"Lilija and I will probably stay in my sister's house for a while. Poor girl is in no shape to travel all the way back to Windhelm." Ralof said. "Now that I think about it, we should probably split up; it wouldn't end well if the Stormcloaks or Imperials caught us travelling together."

"That's a bad idea, Ralof." I voiced my thoughts. "What if the bandits jumped you on the way? You wouldn't be able to drive them off all by yourself."

"Don't worry about me, friend; I know how to lay low." Ralof smirked. "Besides, Riverwood ain't that far from here."

"We should be in Whiterun hold already; that's a neutral territory the last I heard." Hadvar mused. "They should have no problems with either side."

Shortly we arrived on a crossroad. "I guess this is where we part ways." Ralof murmured as he and Lilija separated from us. "Farewell friends, we wouldn't make it out of there alive if it weren't for you." The Stormcloak chuckled a bit. "And, never thought I'd say that but… good luck to you too, Hadvar."

Hadvar grimaced. "Yeah yeah, safe travels, Ralof." He called out somewhat half-heartedly after the retreating duo.

Farlas noticed the soldier's uncomfortable demeanor. "Not used to exchanging pleasantries with enemies, I take it?"

"I guess that after being at each other's throats for so long it feels weird to treat one another as friend." Hadvar replied with a sigh. "Estranged friends, families torn apart, just a few of many reasons why I hate this war sometimes." He began walking down the path. "We should move on; the sooner we get to Riverwood the better."

The road ran through the thick forest and curved down towards a river. The walk was rather uneventful but we weren't complaining; after surviving a dragon attack every person would certainly enjoy some peace and quiet. On the way we passed a group of standing stones resting at a bend above the river with a great view of a lake. Hadvar called those "Guardian stones" and each was said to represent one of thirteen constellations, namely Thief, Mage and Warrior. Continuing along the river, we were approaching Riverwood when a small band of highwaymen blocked our path; those footpads had to be either incredibly courageous or simply very stupid to attack Imperial soldiers.

Wandering around Tamriel for twenty years or so, I had plenty of opportunities to hone my skills, be it blade, bow or magic, and had enough experience to be able to discern what I was dealing with. It was pretty easy to see past superior numbers and threatening looks that served poorly to mask the rather poor skills of the criminal rabble; it was not much of a surprise given that they were used to attacking defenseless people. Either way, they paid for their mistake. I could make do with my destructive spells alone without even raising my blade, letting my companions to take the bandits on up close and personal. Hadvar was definitely the more dangerous one of the two; the thorough and rigorous training the Legion put its recruits through was definitely showing as the soldier tore through the highwaymen with ease. Farlas was quite inexperienced in combat, that much was clear from our first encounter when he helped me drive off a couple of robbers, but still he held his own pretty well. Plus, his fighting style was surprisingly refined, almost like if he had been taking some fencing lessons…

The few bandits that survived the skirmish decided to flee, hoping we wouldn't pursue them. Hadvar decided otherwise, however, determined to protect the citizens of the Empire by eliminating the bandit group. Most of the band was killed in the botched ambush and the rest remained in their base established in an old mine; that counted about five or six men including their "fearless" leader. It was kind of ironic that while the rest of his band fell quickly, the leader, even though a coward, turned out to be much more skilled warrior than his underlings and managed to put up quite a fight. It didn't save his life in the end, though. With the criminal gang destroyed, we headed to Riverwood, but not before stripping the bandit lair of anything of value. Among the piles of loot I found an Elven-style bow made of moonstone; why anyone would let such a magnificent weapon lie unused in a chest was beyond me. Farlas on the other hand picked up several ingots of steel and iron that were scattered around a small forge; when I remarked that the raw materials wouldn't fetch much money, he told me he planned to make himself some better armor and weapons. The Imperial used to be a blacksmith's apprentice back in Cyrodiil and didn't want his smithing skills go to waste. It took a while to gather all the loot but in the end we were leaving the mine with knapsacks filled to the brim with coin, gemstones and other valuables.

From the bandit lair, it was barely an hour of walking to Riverwood.

The village was situated on a strip of land in between a forest and the river which the locals called the White river. It looked like a peaceful serene place; as I looked around, I counted no more than ten houses including an inn and a store. I could tell that the people in Riverwood had no idea about what had transpired in Helgen… yet.

"This is Riverwood." Hadvar remarked. "It may not seem like much to look at but it's home."

Suddenly an old lady sitting on a porch of one of the houses stood up. "DRAGON! I SAW A DRAGON!" She cried, pointing at the mountains looming over the village.

A young man stepped outside the house. "What? What is it, mother?" He asked the woman, startled by her sudden outburst.

"A dragon; it was big as a mountain and black as night! It flew right over the barrow!"

The lad gave his mother a look of disbelief. "Dragons is it now, mother?" He said patiently, although with a hint of annyoance. "Please, if you keep on like this everyone here will think you're crazy and I have better things to do than to listen to your fantasies." With that, he headed back to the house.

"You'll see, Sven!" The woman yelled at him as he disappeared inside the house. "IT WAS A DRAGON, AND WHEN IT KILLS US ALL THEN YOU'LL BELIEVE ME!"

Farlas shook his head. "Well we can safely say that the joke's on him."

"The lad's too busy wooing Camilla to notice that something is amiss." Hadvar snorted. "We should go see my uncle; he works as a blacksmith here."

In the plain view of where we came from, the smithing shop was pretty hard to miss. Alvor, a tall burly bearded Nord was too immersed in his own work to notice the visitors at his doorstep. It was only Hadvar's voice that gained his attention.

"Uncle Alvor!"

The blacksmith looked up from the forge and finally took notice of his nephew. "Hadvar? What are you doing here? Are you on leave from-" He did a double take when he noticed the state of our clothes; tattered and covered in ash. "Shor's bones, boy, what happened? Are you in some kind of trouble?"

"Uncle, please keep your voice down." Hadvar pleaded. "I'm fine. But we should go inside to talk."

Alvor narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "What's going on? And who are these two?" He asked gesturing towards us.

"It's okay, they are friends; saved my life, in fact. Come on, I'll explain everything but we need to go inside."

"Alright, fine." Alvor sighed. "Come inside; Sigrid can give you something to eat and then you'll tell me what's going on." With that he opened the door and let us inside his house.

As soon as we entered we were met with a questioning gaze of Alvor's wife. "We have company, Sigrid." Alvor said.

Sigrid was about to object to presence of unexpected guests but then she noticed the Legionnaire among us. "Hadvar? What happened to you?!" She exclaimed in shock. "Wait a moment; I'll get you all something to eat." With that she headed down to the cellar and returned with bread, a big wedge of cheese and some dried meat. "I'm sorry I can't give you some warm meal; had I known you'd be coming-"

"It's alright, Aunt." Hadvar replied with a smile. "After what we went through today we're not about to get picky." With that we dug in.

As we ate, Alvor decided it would be a good time to get some answers. "Now then, what's the big mystery, boy? You look like you lost an argument with a cave bear, what happened?"

"I wish it was a bear…" Farlas snorted with his mouth full, earning a dirty look from Sigrid.

Hadvar sighed. "Where do I start… You remember how I got assigned to General Tullius' guard?"

"Aye, that I do."

"Well, we were stopped in Helgen when we were attacked by a… _a dragon_."

The shocked silence that ensued was almost deafening… if that makes any sense.

"A dragon?" Alvor repeated skeptically. "You aren't drunk, are you?"

"It's true, sir." Farlas spoke up. "Big, black, scaly bastard; bigger than a house and fiercer than any predator. Razed an entire village to the ground like if it was nothing and not even the finest weapons made a dent on its hide."

"By the Eight…" Sigrid whispered, terror creeping into her voice. "Dragon in Helgen? Why, the beast could turn up here at any moment!"

"It was flying to the west the last we saw." I said. "Maybe it won't come back."

"I won't be sleeping soundly just knowing the thing is out there _somewhere._ Riverwood won't survive a dragon should it attack here." Alvor murmured. "Can you tell me more?"

"Not much; the dragon just appeared and laid waste to the entire town." Hadvar spoke tiredly. "It was a slaughter. I have no idea if anyone survived, let alone how many of them. I'd probably be dead too if it weren't for my friends here."

"Yeah, you mentioned that." Alvor said as he regarded us. "How did they get mixed up with you anyway?"

"The Imperial soldiers arrested us shortly after crossing the border." Farlas replied bluntly.

"What for?"

"If I knew that… Probably they thought that everyone who doesn't wear a Legion outfit is a Stormcloak."

Hadvar looked embarrassed. "Alright, let's all agree that it was an honest mistake."

"You even arrested one of your own soldiers; that High elf Legate, remember?" Farlas chuckled mirthlessly. "I wish I could see the general's expression once he realized what he'd done."

"Look, that "honest mistake" could've cost us our lives!" I retorted. "If that High elf didn't intervene we would've been dead by now." In spite of that, I didn't really have a reason to trust an Altmer, not after what the Aldmeri Dominion had done to my home and my people.

Hadvar noticed the frown on his uncle's face. "Before we jump to any conclusion, I want to say that Tullius' unit managed to capture Ulfric Stormcloak and his entourage. That being said, our soldiers got a bit _overzealous_ in fulfilling their duties after such a success."

"Yeah, that _bitch_ of a Captain more than any other." Farlas snorted derisively.

"Wait, you really caught that murderer?" Alvor asked, surprised by the revelation.

"Yes, we did. Alas, I lost sight of him during the dragon attack. It's possible that he may have survived." Hadvar replied. "I should get to Solitude and let them know what's happened."

Alvor shook his head. "Right now, you should be resting, boy." He didn't give his nephew a chance to object. "Solitude is safe, far away from Helgen. We should be worrying about ourselves now. Riverwood is defenseless; if the dragon decides to attack here we're doomed. We need to send the word to the Jarl."

"I could make a stop in Whiterun, I suppose." Farlas offered. "It's not like I have places to be anyway."

"Really? If you do that for us we'll be in your debt." Alvor said gratefully. "We need every soldier Jarl Balgruuf can spare." To be honest, I was pretty skeptical that a few soldiers would scare away a dragon. The big black bastard in Helgen wiped out almost an entire Imperial unit with no trouble at all. I decided not to voice my concerns, though; besides it seemed obvious that Alvor knew that ordinary footmen had only a little chance against one of the winged beasts.

Suddenly the door slammed open and a young girl rushed inside the house. "Mama, Papa, you won't believe what happened! I heard Hod from the mill say that Helgen was destroyed by a dragon!" She cried.

"We know, Dorthe. We've been talking about that just now." Hadvar said.

Dorthe looked towards the guest and her eyes lit up once she recognized her cousin. "Hadvar! I didn't know you'd visit!"

"Oh, the boy and his friends had a busy day in Helgen today." Alvor remarked with a smirk.

As expected, Dorthe immediately began peppering her cousin with questions. "Hadvar did you really see the dragon? How did it look like? Did it have big teeth?"

"Calm down, little cousin." Hadvar laughed at Dorthe's eagerness. "Give me a moment and I'll tell you everything."

"Now that I think about it, how did Hod learn about Helgen?" Sigrid mused.

"His brother-in-law told him." Dorthe replied instantly. "He came to the mill covered in soot and dragging some Imperial woman with him."

"So Ralof was in Helgen too, it seems." Alvor said and narrowed his eyes at his nephew. "I get the feeling you haven't told me everything, boy."

Hadvar gave a resigned sigh. "Very well, uncle. Here's what happened…"

* * *

 _Elaith_

 _Evening of 17_ _th_ _Last Seed; Jarl's residence, Falkreath_

"She's waking up!"

I barely registered the words spoken in alarm. My senses were almost crippled by the overwhelming pain… as was the rest of my body. I barely had any strength to open my eyes. Worst of all, I couldn't remember anything about what put me in this state; my memories became a fog where it was impossible to tell yesterday from decades ago.

Finally I gathered some strength to force my eyes open. The first thing I saw was a wooden roof illuminated by a pale light of a lamp. I attempted to sit up just to get a better view of wherever I was. My body was _very_ unwilling to cooperate with me. I got to raise my head up maybe a dozen inches before a pair of hands pushed me gently back onto the bed.

"Careful!" A voice admonished me. "You need to rest until you're properly healed."

I turned my head towards the voice to see a priestess of Arkay bent over me. Only now I noticed that my armor was gone, save the pants; I was naked from waist up with only a strip of cloth covering my breasts. Most of my upper body was covered in bandages.

Someone entered the room I was in. "Good, you're awake. For a minute I was worried you wouldn't pull through."

 _General Tullius._ The gruff voice and a pronounced Colovian accent told me it couldn't be anyone else.

The Imperial General sat on a chair next to my bed. "How are you feeling, Legate?"

"Terrible would be a monumental understatement." I said with a chuckle that promptly sent a wave of pain through my chest. "What happened?"

"What's the last thing you remember?"

Now that my memories had cleared up a bit I could easily recall a fortified village and a row of prisoners being sent to the execution, Jarl Ulfric the most prominent among them. If it were not for three innocents bystanders, including myself, being arrested for no good reason at all, Tullius' operation would've been a spectacular success. I remembered leading Farlas the Imperial and Falaere the Bosmer away for questioning and thus narrowly saving them from the headsman's axe. Then the damned _dragon_ came and started demolishing the place; the memories were still fuzzy from that point on.

"I remember fighting the dragon." I replied finally. "No matter what I threw at it the thing just wouldn't go down. And then everything went black all of a sudden; not really sure what happened to me."

"The damn thing crashed into you and sent you flying into one of the burning houses." Tullius said bluntly. "You crashed straight into one of the wooden beams; we thought the impact had broken your back."

"I sure feel like it." I muttered.

"We thought you were dead or would soon be. But the healer over there said she could help you." Tullius continued, pointing at the priestess. "I sent a few of my men to get you out of the rubble while the rest of us tried to fend off the dragon. Our defenses were useless though; the damn thing just shrugged off everything we could throw at it. I thought we'd all get massacred but then it just simply turned away and it was gone." General gave a humorless chuckle. "I'd like to think we chased it away but… the thing getting tired of slaughtering us was more like it."

"How many casualties?" I asked although I could guess the answer already.

"Better question is "how many survivors"." Tullius snorted. "I had about fifty men at my disposal: only ten of them survived, including us. And then there are the Helgen inhabitants; I could count the survivors on the fingers of one hand. And the worst thing is that all the trouble we went through to capture Ulfric Stormcloak were for nothing; the son of a whore managed to slip through our grasp along with a handful of rebels." He added bitterly.

I propped myself up on my elbows despite the loud protests of my sore body. "Maybe the dragon took him out." I suggested.

"I thought the same thing but then I got a report about a group of Stormcloaks heading to the East. One of them matched the description of Ulfric." The general sighed. "Damn it all… We were so close, so _damn_ close to ending this war and this happens."

"Not our fault that a dragon just happened to show up at the worst possible moment." I replied. "You did what you could in a given situation… though arresting uninvolved passers-by was a bit of a blunder on your part."

Tullius made a face. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, Legate." He stated, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

General and I looked towards the person that entered the room. "No, Jarl Siddgeir. Our guest has woken up just a while ago."

"That's good to hear. It would be tragic to hear that a seasoned veteran of the Imperial Legion had been killed, by a _legend_ no less." I winced at Siddgeir's audibly condescending tone.

"No offense but I would take this more seriously if I were you." Tullius admonished as politely as possible. "True it's just one dragon but the beast proved itself to be very dangerous; once you see the ruins of Helgen you'll know what I'm talking about."

I took the time to contemplate Jarl Siddgeir from head to toe. Tall with black hair, clothed in fine clothes adorned with jewelry, unimpressive stature complemented by a visible lack of muscle, relaxed or even unconcerned stance, and bored expression. Two words came to my mind: _spoiled brat_.

"Yes yes, these are troubled times indeed." Siddgeir said dismissively. "I'll leave it to our mutual friend Skulnar to come up with a suitable strategy for dealing with the winged terror should it turn up in Falkreath. Maybe it would be better if I sent the Legate here to discuss this dragon menace." The Jarl turned on his heel and left the room.

"As a good guest I try to be respectful to all the people of significance in Skyrim, but this Siddgeir? The boy has neither the abilities nor the character to be a good ruler." Tullius said in a low voice as soon as Siddgeir was out of earshot.

"Believe me, I noticed. It's like if he didn't even care about what's going on in his hold." I concurred.

Mere moments later, a tall Nord in heavy armor entered the room, presumably Skulnar. "General Tullius, sir." He said with a salute. He did a double-take when he noticed me, though. "By Ysmir's beard… The Wraith of Bravil, in flesh; when the Jarl said you were here I thought he was pulling my leg."

"It seems that my reputation precedes me." I remarked a bit sourly.

"Everyone in the Legion I know has heard stories about the siege of Bravil in the Great War." Skulnar explained. "A High elf Legate and a handful of soldiers managed to wipe out full two platoons of Aldmeri troopers during the siege. You were the talk of the Legion back in the day."

"I did my duty; nothing more, nothing less." I replied flatly. In truth, there was more to it.

My mind wandered back to the siege of Bravil. Some of the Legionnaires with whom I was defending the city were close friends of mine; when the order was given to retreat from the city, I and two other soldiers, Pelaxto Geonodius and Niyyte Sauvum, were cut off from the others by the enemy. After the Dominion had taken the city, there were rumors flying around that the Thalmor had gathered all captives and publicly quartered them as a warning to anyone who would dare cross the Dominion. I knew it was just a rumor but when the word spread about similar atrocities happening in other cities conquered by the Dominion, it made my blood boil with rage. But it was pointless to get mad when some of my closest friends were gone; instead I swore to get even and began encouraging my soldiers to avenge atrocities the Dominion carried out on the citizens of the Empire, even more so after the Imperial city was plundered.

And the Legionnaires were more than happy to show the Aldmeri invaders what's what.

After the Eighth Legion was wiped out during the defense of the Imperial City, I was reassigned to the newly created Sixth Legion that consisted of the survivors from shattered armies and volunteers from all over Tamriel; while not as disciplined as the other units in the Imperial army, they were fierce and fought with a brutality rivaling that of the Thalmor. The Sixth Legion made such an impression on the Dominion that the Thalmor demanded all of its officers, including me, to be executed for "war crimes". The Emperor refused and even threatened to kill off every Aldmeri soldier the Imperial army had captured if the Dominion went against his decision. Thankfully it didn't start another war. However, like many of my fellow officers, I felt that another conflict with the Dominion was only a matter of time, especially after the war and the Concordat left the Empire severely weakened.

Back in the present time, Skulnar chuckled. "If all our soldiers had the same sense of duty as you, we would've kicked the Thalmor bastards off the mainland a long time ago, Lady Gernanne."

"Please don't call me that." I said with a grimace.

"If you two are done," Tullius butted in. "I have to ask something of you, Gernanne."

Even though we didn't meet under the best of circumstances, I decided to her Tullius out. "You have my attention, General."

Tullius sighed. "When I got stationed here to combat the rebels I assumed that the Fourth Legion was more than able to deal with Ulfric and his rabble. But after today I fear that their best might not be enough; my soldiers aren't trained to fight the gods-damned dragons."

"I don't see how I can help you in this matter." I replied. "Besides, I doubt the dragon was there to do Ulfric's bidding; these creatures wouldn't bow to some lowly mortal."

Skulnar raised an eyebrow. "And how would you know that?"

"Boy, I'm about 176 years old; that's plenty of time to learn and study." I said with the tiniest of smiles. "Plus, I work at the College in Winterhold; there's a plenty of information for those who know what they're looking for."

"What I'm trying to say is that we need some experienced soldiers; our regular footmen don't know much past their basic training and we suffer from a lack of seasoned officers." The general explained. "The morale drops the more the civil war drags on; our soldiers barely know this land and the Stormcloaks are exploiting this. Now, I understand that you've been living here for years and, if I'm right to presume, you have some important connections. Experienced officers that could help the Legionnaires deal with the dangers of this land; it would give us the chance to end the Civil war quickly before we spread our resources too thin."

"With all due respect, you do realize that I have duties at the College, right?" I pointed out. "I can't simply leave Winterhold whenever I please."

"I'm not forcing you into anything, Legate." Tullius answered. "But I need to remind you that every other month of war weakens the Empire. We cannot afford to be weak in case that the Dominion grows tired of having to tolerate us." The Imperial General leaned towards me, lowering his voice. "And I think we both know it's only a matter of time."

Tullius' request had put me into a difficult position. I was one of the most vocal opponents of the Concordat. We were sure that even after the heavy losses we could defeat the Dominion; Titus Mede II didn't share our opinion, however. After the treaty was signed I got sidelined because my opinions didn't sit well with the promoters of peace and eventually I chose to leave the military career behind, devoting my time to studies of magic instead. But officially I was never discharged nor did I retire; the Empire had no need for a "firebrand" like me. But I realized that I couldn't simply sit back and watch as the Dominion slowly and quietly spread its influence across Tamriel. That was probably what led to my fateful decision.

"Very well, I will help you." I finally said. "On a few conditions." Tullius nodded, prompting me to continue. "First, I will by no means be your direct subordinate; I have responsibilities elsewhere and I won't let you interfere with them. Second, I want to be informed about everything that transpires in Skyrim; movement of troops, covert operations, battles and so forth. And lastly, should the Rebellion be defeated, the College of Winterhold will remain independent. These are my terms."

To my surprise, Tullius made no objections. "Fine by me, Legate. I have one more request, though." Well, it was foolish to believe he would simply accept. "If you know anyone else who would benefit our cause, do what you can to convince them to join our ranks. We'll need all the help we can get."

"I'll see what I can do." I answered. "But first I have to write a message to the Archmage. He needs to know about the recent development."

I almost forgot about the priestess' presence. "First you have to heal properly." She chided softly. "In such condition you're not doing anything until I say otherwise."

"How long?"

"A day, maybe two; depends on how you follow my advice."

I bit back a groan. "Skulnar, get a parchment and a quill, please. You're going to have to do some writing."

* * *

Author's note: _Three of the four main characters introduced: the Nightwalker will make her appearance in the next chapter. Until then have a nice day!_

* * *

 _Edited on 31st October 2015_


	3. III) Walking the thin line

Chapter 3 – Walking the thin line

 _Evening of 17_ _th_ _Last Seed, Solitude Docks_

The night was falling on the city of Solitude, its buildings and walls overlooking the large port situated in the Karth river bay. Due to the civil war, the docks, usually bustling with activity, now seemed dead, completely devoid of people, with the exception of the guardsmen and a few dockworkers. The only major event was the arrival of an argosy from Northpoint just a few hours before sunset. The large vessel called The Sea Wolf was sitting quietly beside another great ship, The Red Wave, as the dockworkers unloaded its cargo.

No one, not even the bored guardsmen, noticed a young woman running along the shore, far away from the others, not even a man following her shortly after.

* * *

As soon as the gates of the city closed behind her, Illdi ran as fast as her legs allowed her. She could not stand it anymore; the jeering, the hate, the bullying, the entire damned Bards College. The young apprentice always knew she was not very liked at the College but the longer she stayed the worse it got.

Illdi had given up entirely on holding back tears that welled uncontrollably in her eyes.

They all hated her; she had no idea why but they did, especially Aia, Dean Pantea Ateia's favorite who never missed an opportunity to make her stay at the College miserable. And no one ever came to her defense, like if she was not worthy of anyone's attention. Not even the Headmaster Viarmo would help her. The others did not show it, unlike Aia and sometimes even Pantea, but they despised her all the same, she just knew it.

As she fled the city, she ran into one of the guards. The man was nearly knocked off his feet by the impact. "What in Oblivion is wrong with you, girl?!" He demanded angrily.

Illdi did not stop to apologize. She did not want to talk to anybody; the only thing on her mind was finding her special spot at the Karth River she would seek out whenever the frustration became too much for her. Watching the waters flowing slowly to the Sea of Ghosts had a calming effect on her, plus she could have a good cry without anyone seeing her.

Faster than Illdi believed possible, her legs carried her to the small patch of land on the river's bank; it was situated near the docks but a group of large rocks would hide her from any prying eyes. The moment she reached the place, Illdi collapsed on the ground in tears, hugging her knees as she cried. She was not willing to admit it before but now she knew; coming to Solitude was a mistake. It would probably be best if she just packed up and left. It was not like the others would take notice, she surmised, they never cared for her anyway.

The girl perked up as she caught the sound of footsteps. Someone was coming. Illdi began panicking. Was it someone from the college? And if so, how did they know where she had gone? She did not want to give them another reason to mock her.

Her fears were confirmed when she recognized the intruder that emerged from behind the rocks that shielded her.

It was the Redguard Ataf, her fellow pupil at the Bards College. Though younger than her, he was in good graces of most people at the College, something she failed to achieve no matter how hard she tried. "What are you doing here, Illdi?" Ataf questioned.

Illdi ignored the hint of worry in his voice. "Go away." She croaked, her voice trembling.

"You're crying." The young Redguard observed. _No shit_ , Illdi thought bitterly. "What happened? Did Aia bother you again?"

"I want to be alone, Ataf!"

"Oh, don't be like that, Illdi. You know you can talk to me about whatever is bothering you, right?"

Illdi was not moved by Ataf's caring demeanor and encouraging smile. It was all a mask, anyway. She knew too well what he was after. It was no secret that the Redguard was something of a womanizer, flirting with damn near every woman he came across. Illdi might have been young but she was no fool; she saw through the courteous manners and winning smiles and knew what the man wanted. As much as he wanted her to believe otherwise, Ataf did not really have any feelings for her. All he was after was a roll in the hay and he would throw her aside after he got what he wanted.

"I get that you want to talk about this but I don't." Illdi retorted. "Not yet, anyway."

"No need to be afraid, I won't tell anyone about this." Ataf smiled and leaned closer… a bit too close to her liking. She was about to tell him that when all of a sudden she found herself pinned between the ground and the Redguard, her lips forcefully captured by his. Her heart gripped with fear, Illdi began thrashing about in an effort to push the assailant away. Ataf was much stronger, however; he straddled her hips and grabbed her wrists, keeping them pinned above her head with one hand while the other roamed over her body.

Trapped and helpless, Illdi began sobbing openly; the Redguard was about to have his way with her and she could not do anything to stop him. "I'm begging you, please stop…"

"Quiet!" Ataf hissed at her, his free hand fumbling with the buckles of her dress. "We both know you want this!" His gaze addled with lust sickened her. They were in a secluded place; even if she screamed at the top of her lungs, no one would come to her rescue.

Illdi was completely at his mercy and he knew it. When his hand slipped under her dress and immediately went to grab one of her breasts, she stopped struggling, surrendering to the inevitable.

"Good girl…"

 _Just how long he was planning this?_

Her panic stricken mind barely registered that the weight on her hips as well as the grip on her wrists were suddenly gone.

It was Ataf's surprised cry that brought her back to the reality.

Realizing she was free, Illdi quickly sat up and began buckling up her dress.

She was stopped by bloodcurdling scream that cut through the air. She looked up and froze at the sight that greeted her.

There was a dark hooded figure, holding Ataf by the throat with one hand while wrenching the dagger out of the young bard's hand with the other. Even in the dark, Illdi saw that the figure had its mouth latched onto his throat.

 _Oh gods… A vampire._

Illdi knew she had to get out of there, even if it meant leaving Ataf to die, but her body became paralyzed. Whether it was fear or perhaps magic, she did not know; all she knew was that her limbs refused to obey her commands.

 _This is it… I'm going to die…_

Ataf's body hit the ground with a thud. Illdi would swear she heard the Redguard groan, meaning he was not dead, at least for now. When a pair of fiery red orbs looked straight at her, she was sure she was next. She did not realize she was crying again.

 _Divines… Please don't let it take me…_

Death was not the worst fate one could suffer at the hands of a vampire.

Illdi tried her damnedest to will her limbs to move but her body seemed frozen to the ground.

The vampire took one slow deliberate step towards her. Then another.

Illdi choked back a sob, turning her gaze away from her demise.

 _Please… Make it quick…_

The girl did not even realize she had said it aloud.

A low chuckle was not something she expected.

"I have just saved your life – and by the looks of you, probably your virginity as well – and this is what I get?"

The voice was clearly female; low, calm, with a throaty undertone that almost sounded like a purr. Of course, Illdi knew she should be thinking about why the bloodsucker had not pounced on her yet.

There was a moment of unnerving silence before a hand, cold as ice, grabbed her jaw and forced her head up.

"Look at me!"

Illdi found herself face to face with the female vampire, shivering as it stared right into her blazing eyes.

Even with little-to-no light, she could make out a few details of its face. Dark skin, round chin, wide nose with a thin line running down to her full lips, still stained with Ataf's blood. Illdi had never seen a vampire up close but she had heard many stories. Vampires were supposed to be hideous in appearance but this one looked _almost_ normal, very well capable of passing for a _mortal_.

To her surprise, the longer she gazed into her eyes, the less afraid she felt. Her body relaxed but for some reason she did not think of fleeing.

"You still think I'm going to eat you?"

Its voice lost the hard edge; now it sounded almost… _soothing_.

 _How am I still alive?!_

"Why did you help me?" Illdi finally whispered.

"Isn't that what any person worth anything should do?" The vampire said sardonically. "But since you obviously want more of a reason than that… I _hate_ rapists." It- _She_ spat out.

"I never thought he'd… He'd do _that_ to me…"

"Lust has a way of corrupting people." The vampire muttered. Only now Illdi noticed she was carrying some sort of backpack; she set it on the ground and started rummaging through its contents until she pulled out a vial filled with a clear liquid. The vampire grabbed the still unconscious Ataf and sat him up, forcing his mouth open.

"What are you doing?" Illdi asked as she watched the vampire.

"Covering my tracks." She replied simply, pouring the vial's contents down Ataf's throat. "This should heal the bite marks as well as cleanse his systems of any disease. Honestly, I'd rather suck this scum dry and dump his body into the river but a corpse floating in the docks would rouse some suspicion. I'd prefer to avoid that."

"What if he alerts the city guard?"

The vampire flashed a smile; Illdi felt a shiver down her spine at the sight of bloodied fangs. "He won't remember any of this; Illusion magics are more versatile than one would think. At worst, he'll wake up with a splitting headache, thinking he simply got drunk." She released her hold on Ataf and the Redguard fell to the ground slumbering deeply.

Slinging the backpack over her shoulder, the vampire began walking away at a slow pace.

"Wait!"

Illdi surprised herself with the loudness of her voice, given that mere minutes ago she was saying her goodbyes to the world.

The vampire stopped mid-stride and looked back at her.

"I-" Illdi took a deep breath and began anew. "Thank you for saving me… I know I seemed ungrateful and I'm sorry about that but- I've always been told that vampires are monsters-"

"And that would be true, even though there may be… _exceptions_." The vampire interrupted. "But you're welcome…" She let the words hang in the air… and the other woman understood.

"I'm Illdi, with the Bards College."

The vampire bowed slightly. "Saliyah al-Hegathe. Would you happen to know where I could find a wizard by the name Sybille Stentor?"

"Oh, you mean Jarl Elisif's court wizard? She lives in the Blue Palace."

"My thanks." Saliyah the vampire nodded and went on her way. "Maybe I'll see you around."

Illdi watched as her unexpected savior vanished in the darkness, already knowing she would not see the woman again.

 _I'll gather my things and take the first carriage out of here. I've had enough of this place._

* * *

 _Saliyah_

 _17_ _th_ _Last Seed, Blue Palace, Solitude_

Aside from the usual guardsmen patrolling around the city, the streets of Solitude were completely empty. The muffled sounds of cheering and singing were coming from the local inn but otherwise the city was quiet. I didn't mind; after that unpleasantness near the docks I could have definitely used some peace and quiet. Who knows what could've happened to that Illdi girl hadn't I stepped in. I could tell she was scared out of her wits and I had to use my Illusion magics to calm her down but she recognized I meant no harm to her… _unlike many others._ As for that little bastard of a man that tried to defile her… I _really_ wanted to kill him but by doing that I could make myself a target. In any case, I only planned to stay here for my business with the court wizard.

Sybille Stentor was one of the few scholars that dealt with Vampirism in their numerous treatises. The next year she would celebrate her 100th birthday; ordinary folks would think the woman was simply blessed with a _very_ long life but I knew that only a few years ago she accepted the position of the High King's court wizard. No one would do that at such great age and I had a sneaking suspicion that Sybille might have a few skeletons in the closet… _figuratively speaking_.

In any case, Sybille might have some valuable insight into Vampirism she could share with me, provided I could get to her without any incidents. I spent many years learning virtually anything there was to know about my… _condition_ , but I still had a feeling there was more to be learned.

I left most of my belongings, including my fighting gear, in a room I rented at the local inn and walked the streets clothed in a simple deep red dress. My choice of color had nothing to do with my condition, of course.

"A bit late to be wanderin' around, ain't it?" An accented voice sounded on my right. I turned towards the source and found myself face to, um, _helmet_ with a guardsman. "I've never seen you around before."

I flashed the broadest smile I could without showing my teeth. "You'd be right, I just arrived from Northpoint."

"We don't get many visitors from High Rock, especially with the Civil War goin' on." The guard grunted.

Oh yes, the unfortunate matter with the late High King Torygg. Butchered in his own home, by a man he admired, no less… The Divines had some cruel sense of humor. "I heard about the murder of Torygg. That must've been horrible."

"Aye, a terrible day indeed. Worse, that murderer Ulfric managed to escape justice, thanks to one of our own men. Roggvir already paid for his betrayal this mornin'."

"A death sentence, I assume?"

The man smiled wickedly. "The executioner's axe in a full swing is a damn scary sight. Watch yourself in our city, lady, so you won't have to experience that first hand."

"I'll be sure to obey Solitude's laws, then." With that I was on my way to the Blue Palace. Contrary to my belief, no one was there to bar me from entering.

The most of the inhabitants of the palace were sleeping at the time I walked in. The exception was a young maid who directed me to the palace's upper level. I found the court mage's chamber easy enough.

Sybille Stentor was sitting at the table, engaged in a conversation with a finely dressed red headed Nord man and holding a glass of dark red liquid. I assumed it was wine until my nose was hit by an unmistakable smell of blood. Plus, Sybille looked like if she never hit her fortieth year.

The court mage was indeed a vampire which piqued my interest. No idea how she would react to my presence, though.

"Am I interrupting anything?" I called out to get their attention. Two pairs of eyes turned to stare at me; one icy blue, other blood red.

"We don't usually receive visitors this late." The Nord said. "If you have business with the court, you'll have to wait until tomorrow." He didn't recognize what I am; on the other hand, Sybille stared at me very intently, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"It's alright. In fact, I'm here to see the court wizard." I replied courteously.

"What for?" Sybille asked suspiciously.

"I'd rather not talk about this in your companion's presence _._ "

The court wizard stood up and approached me, her gaze meeting mine. "Not a chance." She practically hissed. "Drop the act; I already know what you are."

The Nord seemed alarmed. "What do you mean, Stentor?"

"You've known me long enough _not_ to ask such a stupid question, Falk." Sybille fired back without breaking the eye contact with me.

The man, now identified as Falk, stared at her for a moment before he pulled out a dagger and pointed it "threateningly" at me. "Stay back, vampire!"

This meeting was going south faster than I anticipated.

Suddenly, my mind went back to Sybille's remark and I realized something important. "Wait a moment… You know what she is." I stated flatly, directing my remark solely at Falk.

"Despite her condition, Sybille was nothing but a benefit to Haafingar hold and its people for many years!" Falk said firmly. "Her loyalty is and always has been unwavering and unlike many of your kind, she went to great lengths to overcome her dark nature."

The vampiric court wizard gave a snort. "Your flattery is unneeded, steward… but it _is_ appreciated. Back to the matter at hand, though." Then she shifted her attention to me. "You are very daring to come all the way here, through so many guardsmen, hoping that no one would interfere with whatever nefarious plan you came up with."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Sybille might've been a wizard and a Vampire, but she wouldn't stand a chance against me… and that was no boast; it was simply a _fact._ "I didn't leave a bloodbath in my tracks, if that's you're worried about. Besides, had I really wanted to kill you, you all would have been dead by now." I looked at Falk who went visibly pale. "I don't intend on harming anyone here but if you force me to fight, I will kill off _this_ _entire city_ if I have to."

"How can I know you are to be trusted?" Sybille countered, arcane flames dancing in her palm. "How can I know this isn't just a ruse to get us to let our guard down?"

"You've studied Vampirism for decades." I smirked. "You should know that better than anyone."

Sybille remained silent for a few second, just like Falk the steward. I felt relieved when the court wizard finally dispelled the fire magic in her hand. "Sit." She said stiffly and pointed at the empty chair next to a bookshelf. I obeyed her command; Falk watched me uneasily as I walked past him. The court wizard began pacing in front of me. "So, you're clearly not feral, given that you haven't slaughtered us all yet. What I can't discern is your motivation to come here. You know that if you attempted to enthrall a member of the court, I would recognize it immediately."

I had to hand it to her, that woman was _sharp._

"I have studied Vampirism as well, being a test subject to myself on several occasions." I explained. "I read a few of your treatises on the matter and I thought you might share some of your insight into my condition."

"To what ends?"

I chuckled humorlessly. "That is a story you might want to sit down for." A story I shared with only a handful of people; after all, I wouldn't have lived very long had I flaunted openly my Vampiric blood. "I was turned in year 391 of Third Era, on 20th Evening Star."

Sybille frowned heavily. "That's the summoning day of Molag Bal."

"Indeed." I replied simply. "I was 22 years old when it happened." Even after more than two hundred years I still remembered it with perfect clarity… There were times when I wished I didn't. "Unlike many other vampires I chose to hold onto my sanity instead of giving in to my instincts. It was and it still is a constant struggle and the call of blood nearly drove me crazy on multiple occasions. _But I persisted._ "

"Impossible." Falk scoffed. "Vampires can't just _not_ feed, otherwise they risk becoming weak and feral."

"Well, that depends on the type of a vampire, but generally it's true." I explained. "Many vampires, especially the weaker ones, succumb to the bloodlust simply because they're incapable to keep their vampiric nature from poisoning and taking over their mind; others are seduced by supernatural powers and abilities vampirism gives them. Either way, they become predators that despise mortals despite being mortals themselves at one point or another. However, an individual with strong enough will can defy their vampiric instincts and retain their personality as it was in, well, _life_ , provided that they don't allow themselves to become blood-starved because at that point, their inner beast takes over, often permanently."

"It is possible, although uncommon and very difficult." Sybille conceded. "I usually keep myself as busy as possible in order to distract myself from my thirst. The longer I go without feeding, the more overwhelming it gets."

"But you still preserved your sanity, didn't you?" Honestly, I admired Sybille for being able to resist the unnatural urges that came with vampirism, especially given that she was a _lesser_ vampire. Very few people were capable of that. "A vampire doesn't have to become a monster, only fit to slaughter and enslave mortals… as Molag Bal intended."

"Perhaps…" Sybille trailed off, deeply in thoughts. "I am curious… You said you were turned on 20th Evening Star, Molag's summoning day, correct?"

"Yes."

"Hmm… You look almost indistinguishable from a mortal, _almost_ , given the unmistakable color of your eyes. Also, your skin hasn't gone pale as expected… Do you hail from Hammerfell, by any chance?"

I nodded. "I lived in Hegathe until… you know what I mean."

The court wizard only hummed in response. Falk listened to her monologue with a somewhat unnerved expression. "No facial distortions, as I usually see on vampires around Skyrim, plus you seem relatively in control of yourself, which implies a particularly strong will. All of this points to one conclusion…" She paused. "What did you say your name was?"

I felt a smile tugging at my lips. "I didn't, and it's Saliyah."

"Well, Saliyah of Hegathe," Sybille gave me a pointed stare. "Are you a pureblood vampire?"

"I am." I replied, seeing no sense in denying the truth.

"Falk, leave us."

The steward was taken aback by her request. "Are you sure it's wise?"

"Last I checked I know more about vampirism than you do." Sybille passed over his concern. "I know what I'm doing."

"Very well. I'll remain nearby, in case she starts any trouble." Very reluctantly, Falk left the room.

"She won't. Trust me on this, Falk."

When the door closed behind the steward, the court wizard looked back at me with an expression of understanding, mixed with a bit if pity. If anyone else gave me that look I wouldn't take them seriously but Sybille was one of my kind and she knew precisely what I had to go through in order to keep my "unnatural urges" from taking over.

My over two centuries lasting experience with vampirism showed that even though drinking blood of the living was an important means of sustenance and replenishing of strength, it was not the main goal of vampires. Their ultimate purpose lied in corrupting and enslaving mortal races of Nirn which essentially meant carrying out the will of Molag Bal, the lord of domination and enslavement. It would explain why vampires regarded the mortals as inferior beings, only fit to be slaves or cattle. It was due to Molag's influence that came with the disease.

"How did it happen?"

Sybille's voice brought me back in the present time.

I knew exactly what she was asking about.

"I'll spare you all the gruesome details." I said evenly. "I was kidnapped from my home by a cult of Molag Bal worshippers. A few days later I was offered to their lord." I suffered from nightmares for years after the cursed ritual; the more surprising it was that I could speak so calmly about all that. "Somehow I survived… and the first thing I did after awakening was to slaughter the entire cult and tearing their leader limb from limb with my bare hands."

"That… must've been a horrifying experience…"

"It's been 243 years, Sybille; more than enough time to make peace with my fate. I don't shy away from using my powers, but unlike others of my kind, I chose to remember what I was. Apart from you and a few others, none had done so." I shifted in the chair to make myself comfortable. This was going to be a long night. "Well, I think it wouldn't be fair if I was the only one here to pour my heart out, so to speak."

Sybille chuckled lightly. "I suppose not. It was quite some time since I spoke with one of my kind, in a civil manner, that is. Very well, ask away."

I returned the smile. It was going to be a long night indeed.

* * *

 _Farlas_

 _18_ _th_ _Last Seed, Riverwood_

I had decided to have an early morning that day. My body was covered in dust, ash and all other sorts of filth from our previous adventure and I was in a desperate need of a bath. Plus, I wanted to use the ores and ingots we found in the bandit lair yesterday to make myself a set of armor; wandering around the country in an Imperial outfit would attract some unwanted attention, especially from the Stormcloaks and I wanted to avoid that. Careful not to wake up our hosts, I put on some worn clothes I got from Sigrid, picked up the smithing supplies and slipped quietly out of the house.

The entire village was still asleep when I made my way to the White river. Picking one particular spot near the Riverwood sawmill, I shed my clothes and jumped into the cold waters. Not before checking if there was anyone else around, I might add; just because I'm a man doesn't mean I should be showing off my private parts in public like a complete savage. It came as a shock to feel how damn cold the water was but at least it succeeded in waking me up fully. After retreating back to the river's bank I realized I had nothing to dry myself off with but I put the clothes on anyway; I would be working the forge so it would all dry anyway. I went to Alvor's forge and began getting ready for work.

The forge hissed like thousand angry snakes as I heated it up. The next step was to think about how to use available resources. Steel armor was out of question, however, because I had not nearly enough materials to make one. So I decided to improvise and made the iron plates of the armor a bit thicker to increase the protection. That left me with enough ingots of steel to forge a longsword to replace the one that was confiscated by Imperial soldiers; I was still pretty miffed about that. The Legion shortsword I "borrowed" at Helgen keep was still sharp enough so there was no need to replace it.

The whole process of forging the armor and the long-sword took me more than two hours, despite working at a faster pace. Alvor wouldn't be too pleased to see some stranger take his place at the forge and thus keep him from working. Fortunately, Hadvar's uncle decided to sleep in and showed up at the forge just as I was making some finishing touches to the cuirass. Judging by Alvor's compliment on my handiwork, I didn't mess up nearly as bad as I thought I would've.

"I would've considered hiring you as an apprentice but we're just a small village, there ain't many customers around." The elder blacksmith remarked. "I would have no use for you since I can manage all the work on my own here."

"It's quite alright, sir." I replied, not noticing the older man wince. "I thought I would have better luck looking for work in one of the major cities here anyway."

"Don't 'sir' me, lad. We're all equals here." Alvor reproached with faked annoyance. "Only those wealthy city folk pricks revel in titles, but not me."

"I'll be sure to remember that." I chuckled lightly. The elder blacksmith reminded me of my master back in Cyrodiil while I was still an apprentice. "Anyway, how's everyone else doing?"

"Well, the elf that came here with you had snuck out into the woods earlier; I'd say she was going hunting, probably." Alvor shrugged. "About Riverwood, though… Hod already knows about the dragon and I guess it's a matter of time before the rest of the village learns as well."

"Don't worry; we'll set out to Whiterun at midday." I said to calm down the worried smith. "How's Hadvar?"

"Well, he's doing better than yesterday, that's for sure. Though, I don't think the shock's fully worn off yet; I think I heard him muttering things in his sleep."

"No surprise there." I remarked and began putting on my newly made armor.

Alvor gave a sigh. "I can't argue with that. Though a dragon appearing after all this time is bound to cause more than just restless sleep, I suspect."

Suddenly, an idea occurred to me. "Now that we talk about it, how far is it to Whiterun?"

"About five hours on foot, four if you keep a swift pace." The blacksmith explained. "The road goes along the White river and is relatively safe from what I've heard. You shouldn't have any trouble, I think."

"That's good to hear." I said, adjusting the last of straps on my armor. "You can do whatever you wish with the Imperial outfit, I don't need it anymore."

Alvor inspected the Legion armor that lay piled up beside the forge. "Hmm… It's pretty battered; not entirely useless but not fit for sale either. I think I'll just dismantle it, melt down the metal and use the rest as the spare parts or something."

"That's an idea." I replied. "Anyway, I think I'll go look around the village, hang around until my acquaintance gets back. We'll set out to Whiterun once she returns."

Alvor merely grunted in response as he took his place at the forge. I went to look around the village, leaving the blacksmith to his own devices; I had wasted enough of the man's time by keeping him waiting.

Riverwood seemed like a nice peaceful place. Not many people lived here but that was pretty fine with me; as a child I lived in Cheydinhal and truth to be said I didn't miss the racket and crowded streets of a city in the slightest. In spite of its size, the village had everything a man would need; a general goods store, an inn, a blacksmith's shop, a sawmill, if you needed a job, plus the village was situated on a trading road between Whiterun and Falkreath. As for the people who lived here, there were some interesting individuals… interpret that however you wish.

Aside from Alvor and his family, I already saw Sven, a local bard who was allegedly in love with one certain Camilla Valerius, a sister of the owner of the local store, and his mother Hilde who appeared to show signs of senility.

Ralof's sister Gerdur was the owner of the Riverwood sawmill along with her husband Hod. I only saw the latter at work; his wife must've been tending to that Lilija girl we found in the Helgen keep. As for Ralof and Lilija, I didn't see them around the village. I could understand that, though; if the word got out that Gerdur and her family were harboring Stormcloak soldiers there probably would be some severe repercussions.

On my tour around Riverwood, I visited the Sleeping Giant Inn to buy something to eat. No ale though; it was way too early to get drunk and besides, I had a travel to make. The owner of the inn was a short blonde Breton woman, about forty years in age, if I had to guess and her rather attractive face was marred by a permanent light scowl. I could swear that her gaze was boring into the back of my skull the entire time I was there; it was pretty unnerving. The innkeeper had an assistant, a Nord by the name Orgnar; he was a man of a few words, in fact he came off as somewhat apathetic at times. And of course, Riverwood also had a local drunkard, Embry. There wasn't much to say about the dirtied Nord who seemed to do nothing but knock back one mug of mead after another.

After the hearty breakfast I left the inn, not willing to remain any longer under the innkeeper's watchful gaze. I wandered around the village for a few more minutes before I finally spotted Falaere coming through the eastern gate in the company of a Wood Elf male. My companion from Helgen was holding at least three dead rabbits and a couple of pheasants while the other Elf carried a young stag on his shoulders.

The two Elves were engrossed in their conversation so they didn't notice me approaching. "Do my eyes deceive me or did you just kill off half of the forest?" I exclaimed, amazed at the size of their take.

The male Wood Elf chuckled lightly. "I guess we got a little carried away."

Falaere picked that precise moment to butt in. "Well, Faendal here bragged that he could hit his mark at three hundred yards… _in a blizzard_ , if you'd believe that. I dared him to prove it and since there's obviously no blizzard right now, we tested our skills on moving targets."

 _Three hundred yards in a blizzard…_ I heard that the Wood Elves were the best archers in all of Tamriel, surpassing their peers from other countries by far but to hit their mark in such conditions… It just didn't seem doable, master marksman or not. "What are you going to do with all this dead meat?" I just had to ask.

"I'll just take a rabbit and a pheasant. I can always go to the woods for some hunting when I need to." Faendal replied and laid the dead stag on the ground. "You two can share the rest."

"Oh, we can leave the stag to Alvor and his family as a parting gift." Falaere suggested. "We never properly thanked them for helping us after that Helgen disaster."

I was about to shush the Wood Elf woman to stop her from inciting a panic around the village. Faendal intervened before I could say a word. "An entire town burned to the ground just like that. I never would've guessed that bandits were capable of such destruction." The Elf said with an expression of disgust, obviously not knowing the truth about the decimated town. Falaere was smarter than I gave her credit for. True, the news of a dragon would spread very soon but until the reinforcements from Whiterun arrived, the folk of Riverwood were better off not knowing the truth.

"I know, right?" Falaere remarked. "And then there's also the talk of the civil war, it's enough to make one's head spin."

"Yeah, the world's gone crazy, indeed." Faendal nodded. "Listen, I'd love to stay and chat more but Hod needs me down at the sawmill; best not to keep the man waiting. Maybe we'll meet again later." With that, the young Elf went on his way.

 _The man has no idea how right he is,_ I thought grimly as I watched Faendal head towards the sawmill. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Falaere contemplating me from head to toe. "What?" I said somewhat annoyed, having my fair share of being stared at already.

"That armor makes you look like a brigand." The Elf replied bluntly, straight to the point.

"It's the best I can afford now." I responded with a shrug. "Maybe you should consider getting rid of that Imperial uniform. It might draw some unwanted attention."

Falaere considered my point. "Maybe I will, if the blacksmith has something for an acceptable price. I'd prefer not to spend all my money on a suit of armor."

"I'm sure Alvor can find something for you." I picked up the stag and we slowly started walking to Alvor's house.

"You're still planning on going to Whiterun today?"

"Yeah, I do. Thinking of tagging along?"

"I guess so. I haven't really decided where to go yet so I might as well accompany you."

"If I may ask, why did you even travel to Skyrim?" I asked curiously. "The weather here isn't exactly favorable to your kind; I mean it is pretty cold here."

Falaere seemed to think for a moment. "I'd probably say out of curiosity. Skyrim is one of the provinces I haven't visited yet, beside Hammerfell, High Rock and Summerset Isles. Plus, there's just nothing holding me back in Valenwood."

I couldn't help it but notice the strange wistful look in her crimson eyes but I chose not to comment. It felt rude to ask about something that could as well be a personal matter that was none of my business. "So you're an adventurer, then?"

"I prefer the term 'wanderer' rather than 'adventurer'." She corrected me with a half-smile. "Thrill seeking and glory hunting aren't really my thing."

By that time we had already arrived to Alvor's house.

Imagine the surprise we caused when I slammed the dead stag on the table. For a good few seconds, Sigrid simply gaped at me, jaw dropped in shock, before she gathered enough wits to ask me where on Nirn we got that thing from. After Falaere explained the circumstances surrounding the dead animal, Alvor's wife began fretting about what to do with the several pounds of venison that turned up in her home. Then Alvor himself barged inside the house to see what all the fuss was about; his reaction to Falaere's kill was that of a pleasant surprise. No wonder, given that his family was about to have a feast. He even gave Falaere a discount on some worn leather armor she wanted to buy.

As for me and my elven companion, we shared the rest of the kill, the two rabbits and the pheasant, for lunch. We had a long journey to make and it would be a bad idea to overgorge ourselves beforehand. After the meal, we were ready to set out.

As I was about to walk out of the house, I noticed Hadvar slinging a bag over his shoulder and fastening the remaining straps on his armor. "You going somewhere?" I asked the Imperial soldier.

"I'm going to Falkreath." Hadvar explained. "Wanted to check the town for possible survivors from Helgen; if I'm lucky I might even catch up with Tullius."

"What makes you think they'll be there?" Falaere questioned.

"Where else would they go?" The Legionnaire scoffed. "Certainly not Rift; those traitors sided with the Stormcloaks. Whiterun is no option either; the hold remained neutral in the war so far and the Jarl might take it as a provocation if Imperial soldiers wandered around his territory. Falkreath is with the Empire, so it makes sense the General and his troops would retreat there."

"Why do you hate the rebels so much?" I asked. "I mean, Talos is like a patron God of the Nords, from what I've seen so it makes sense that some people revolted against the Empire for banning his worship, right?" I grew up in the time of disillusionment after the Great War, when people couldn't stop worry about their future after the Empire degraded to something only a little more than a vassal state to the Dominion. I could understand why the Stormcloaks didn't want to remain on board of the sinking ship that was the Empire. Even now it barely resisted the pressure from the Thalmor and it seemed like only a matter of time before it caved in completely.

Hadvar gave me a leveled stare. "I can see you haven't been here long enough to understand what this war's really about." The soldier remarked with a hint of bitter resentment. "Ulfric doesn't care about Talos, Skyrim or its people. All he wants is _power_ ; why else would he murder High King Torygg? He rallied many of his kinsmen to _'_ bring back Talos and free this land of the corrupt Empire' while his only concern is the High King's throne. He only cares about himself and he doesn't give a troll's arse that he's tearing this land apart with that power trip of his!"

"And what do you think about all this, Hadvar? About the Empire? About Talos?"

"I never thought an Imperial would care about this." Hadvar remarked with a small fleeting smile. "Banning of Talos worship caused a lot of resentment in Skyrim and for a good reason. But it's not like the Empire had a choice, right? Besides, no matter how blasphemous it is to just forsake a God, it's not worth tearing apart the only thing that keeps the Thalmor from walking all over Skyrim."

"They're already walking around Skyrim whenever they please." I pointed out. "I saw them in Helgen."

"Those elves would be _swarming_ this land if it were not for the Empire." Hadvar countered swiftly. I had to grudgingly admit he was right. "Thalmor won't be doing much as long as the Empire is in Skyrim."

"I really hope you're right." Those damned gold-skinned holier-than-thou rats, always thinking they were better than all other races put together. "To me it seems that the only reason the Empire exist is because the Dominion allowed it."

"The Empire will rise again." The Legionnaire said firmly. "It may take some time but it will happen." Not within our lifetimes, I thought. Gods, I'm such a cynical bastard sometimes…

We said our goodbyes to Alvor and his family and set out to Whiterun to deliver the message. Hadvar accompanied us to the bridge across the White River before he had to set out in the opposite direction to Falkreath. The young soldier wished us good luck and safe travels, remarking that maybe we would meet again someday.

Then we parted ways; Hadvar made his way to Falkreath while Falaere and I headed to Whiterun. I prayed to the Divines that our journey would go smoothly, without any incidents. After the Helgen disaster, I wasn't ready for yet another adventure.

* * *

Author's note: _Here is the long-overdue introduction of the Nightwalker. I'm sorry about the delay; this story should've been updated a lot sooner but I had to take a break from writing for a time (beginning with September). Had to work a bit on my writing style. Of course, the break got a bit longer than I originally planned... I'm back at the college and the studies are even more time consuming than when I was doing my bachelor degree. On the other hand, it became a damn good incentive to carefully schedule the stuff I do, including writing, reading, studying (for school and/or otherwise), drawing_ and _occasional gaming. Of course, thanks to my pathetic working morale, sometimes I find myself incapable of sticking to the schedule and just do what I feel like doing at the moment... Which means I_ barely _get anything done. But... it's still a progress, I guess... :)  
_

 _Anyway, I made some minor changes in the first two chapters; just changed the heading of viewpoint shifts on_ Deplaisance de la Nuit _'s recommendation (Thanks for the review, by the way) and changed some words that I thought felt weird to me. All in all, nothing dramatic. Plus, I'm considering changing the fic's rating to M for the scene at the beginning of this chapter. Had to introduce the Nightwalker somehow, in a way that gives a glimpse into her character. I'm probably gonna leave it at T-rating for now because the scene was not graphic (at least in my opinion) but I'm ready to change the rating if there are any complaints.  
_

 _That's about it from me, not gonna spoil what's gonna happen in the future chapters :D So until the next update, have a good time!_


	4. IV) Don't shoot the messengers

Chapter 4 – Don't shoot the messengers

 _Farlas_

 _Evening of 18_ _th_ _Last Seed, Outskirts of Whiterun_

The trek to Whiterun took us nearly the entire afternoon. When we finally saw our destination, a city built on a hill overlooking the wide plains, the sun was already setting, its light coloring the world a hue of orange. Thankfully, our journey was quiet and peaceful; just once a stray wolf crossed our path, only for Falaere to chase it away with a lightning bolt.

As we walked through the outskirts of Whiterun, I contemplated the city enclosed by hundreds of years old walls; it seemed like a pretty decent place to me. Once we deliver the message to the Jarl, I just might look around for some work. A person has to make their living somehow. Maybe the Whiterun folk could use another blacksmith… As we passed the "Honningbrew meadery", as the sign hanging above the entrance announced proudly, I caught the mild, distinct scent in the air. Truth to be said, I never really saw what was so special about mead; I'd always choose a pint of good ale over mead any day.

I noticed the local guards give us weird looks as we walked down the road. Their scrutinizing stares were making me a tad uncomfortable and for a moment I expected one of them to tell us to turn around and go back where we came from. That would be pretty rude… On the other hand, they were just doing their job protecting the city; with the civil war going on, I figured it justified that they'd regard the newcomers with a _healthy_ dose of suspicion.

I started to think that we'd get to finish our task without any trouble along the way. The Divines were too quick to prove me wrong, though.

All of a sudden, the ground shook. It was a weak tremor, but I still could feel it, and so did my elven associate.

"Did you feel that?"

"Yeah. What do you think it was?"

The answer to my question came in the form of a terrified scream coming from one of the farms on Whiterun's outskirts. A small woman, probably a farmhand, was running from a hulking, humanoid creature that was currently ransacking the crops. The thing, clothed in animal hide and wielding a huge club, was easily twice as tall as I, if not even taller.

"That's a giant." Falaere breathed out, fascinated by the creature. "I've heard of them but I never thought I'd get to see them up close."

"You've never seen one of those, I get that. But _maybe_ you'd want to admire it while it's _not_ destroying a farm and endangering people?" I shot back, not sharing her excitement in the least. "Where are the guards when you need them?!"

A moment later, a loud war cry sounded from somewhere ahead of us.

A party of three warriors, a man and two women, charged at the rampaging giant. The man in the trio easily dwarfed his associates by his sheer size and his steel armor only served to emphasize his bulky frame. I didn't think anyone could have so much muscle on them. He led the charge swinging his greatsword at the giant that only now realized it was being attacked. A young woman clad in a cheap scaled armor backed him, fighting with a sword and a shield. The third member of the trio, a woman whose long red hair shined at the distance, hung back and started shooting arrows at the giant, scoring a few hits that only seemed to infuriate the tall monstrosity. That was a good thing when I thought about it because fighting up close and personal in such a poor armor (if one could even call that such) wouldn't end well. Whatever the red haired archer was wearing was made of mostly leather and had left her entire back, upper arms and thighs uncovered. I was pretty sure that sorry excuse for an armor wouldn't stop a dagger, much less anything bigger.

"Should we help them?" Falaere asked, her arm already reaching for her bow.

"Why not." I said after a brief deliberation. I thought helping to take that thing down might make a good impression on the locals. Plus the giant was already doomed, so why not make its demise a little quicker?

I tore my greatsword out of its sheath and ran forward to help the three warriors take down the beast. Falaere grabbed her bow and started pelting the giant with arrows. It took me a few seconds to close the distance between me and the tall monster that was already bleeding from the numerous wounds it received in the fight. As soon as I was close enough I swung my blade wide and landed a hit on its leg. The giant growled in pain and shot me a murderous glare just before raising its huge club and slamming it down right where I stood. I barely rolled out of the way of the blow, and the ground shook as the club impacted, throwing me off balance.

Then, as if out of the blue, an arrow lodged itself right in the giant's left eye. I couldn't help but wince, grateful that I wasn't the target. The thing howled in agony and dropped its club, its hands clawing at the arrow sticking out of the wounded eye. The other three fighters took the opportunity to start hacking at the defenseless giant; I added a few slashes on my own for a good measure.

Soon, the enormous creature was dead, lying at our feet in a crumpled heap.

Falaere joined us soon and kneeled at the large corpse to collect her arrows. "This wasn't as difficult as I thought." She remarked.

"Well, it was five against one." The girl with the shield stated. With her black hair and slightly tanned skin, she looked remarkably un-Nordic. "Not that I don't appreciate the help but we could've handled that ourselves."

"I know you could. But the longer the fight, the bigger the risk of an injury or, Gods forbid, death." I pointed out. "Better put it down fast before things get too messy."

"For someone who's seen so few winters, you seem to know your way around." The red headed archer said as she approached us.

Now, most of other men would immediately focus on her figure, since her _armor_ didn't leave much to imagination. Given that I was trained in the arts of war, to a certain degree, I could tell from the subtle signs who I was dealing with. And, judging by her posture, green claw-mark war paint, muscles rippling under her skin, and piercing grey, cold and calculating eyes, I could tell that the woman was dangerous. It made me stay wary around her even though I wasn't blind to the wild beauty she possessed.

"And he's a decent fighter." The steel-clad bear of the man rumbled in a deep voice.

"Right, just carry on, don't mind me." Falaere grumbled under her breath. "Like if I wasn't even here."

"Well, all wood elves are great marksmen, so you're not that special." The red head said with humor in her voice.

Falaere rolled her eyes but decided not to comment.

"So, any reason why a bunch of armed strangers attacks a giant?" I asked. "I get that you're all skilled warriors but it was still pretty risky. That thing looks like it could snap me in half without trying."

"Well, that giant was harassing people for a while now, and it was our job to get rid of it." The dark haired woman said with a grin. "Plus, a true Companion never backs down from a challenge."

"A Companion?" I echoed. I'd never heard of those 'Companions'. Was it some kind of mercenary company?

"What?" The brawny male asked with some confusion. "Everybody knows who Companions are!"

"Those two are obviously strangers, Farkas." The red head replied before turning back to us. "In short, the Companions are an order of warriors and brothers and sisters in honor. We show up to solve problems, if the coin is good enough."

"So, like the Fighters Guild, then?" Falaere suggested.

The archer shrugged. "In a way, yes. But there's more to it than that. If you want to know more or if you're considering joining up, perhaps, you'd want to speak with Kodlak Whitemane, up in Jorrvaskr. He will tell if you make for a good shield-sibling."

"I'll be sure to consider that option." I replied tactfully. In all honesty, I never put much thought into the career of a 'professional fighter'. Not because I was afraid or anything like that; I simply didn't see myself as a warrior, even though I was trained in swordplay. I'd much prefer to settle down and have a quiet life working as a craftsman than wander across the whole province looking for jobs that would have me kill things… or _people_. But still, I didn't want to write off the mercenary career as an option just yet. Who knows what will happen…

"It sure sounds interesting but we should be on our way." My elven companion butted in. "We have business in the city."

"Whiterun is closed due to dragon sightings." The red head said. "Bunch of nonsense, if you ask me." If only, I thought grimly. "The guards know us though, so we might get you inside."

"We'd appreciate that, if you wouldn't mind."

"Follow us then." The Companion archer nodded. "Just remember; if you cause trouble inside the city, you'll have us to deal with." She added with a predatory smirk. "And believe me, it won't be pretty. Not for you, anyway."

* * *

With the help of Farkas and the other two Companions who neglected to introduce themselves, Falaere and I made it inside Whiterun. It didn't go without a minor altercation, though, because the guards at the gate didn't seem to trust us. Then again, who'd blame them? There was plethora of instances where a guardsman unwittingly let a bandit inside a city. Once we properly explained the situation, the guardsmen directed us straight to the ruler's palace.

The city itself was quite a remarkable sight. Built atop a hill and surrounded by centuries old walls, Whiterun was pretty spacious, the houses built in typical Nordic style separated by paths and patches of land. It was so unlike the cities down in Cyrodiil, where buildings were bunched together in an effort not to waste a single inch of space. In here, the open spaces actually allowed the cool fresh air in the streets whereas the cramped cities of Cyrodiil felt like if they actually threatened to suffocate its denizens with the stale air.

All in all, I could see myself living in this place.

Whiterun was divided into three districts. There was the Plains district, the lowest of the three, where a market and most of the shops could be found, such as an inn, a general store, and an apothecary, among many other establishments. Higher up was the Wind district; most people of importance in Whiterun lived there. I've heard the locals talking about some spat between the Greymane and Battleborn families; apparently those people were important around here, even though personally I've never heard of them. The two prominent features of the Wind district were the Gildergreen, a large spreading tree in the middle of a square, and Jorrvaskr, the home of the Companions where Farkas and his "Shield-siblings" parted ways with us. The mead hall kind of resembled a ship turned upside down with several large shields hanged at its sides. As for the Gildergreen, the locals seemed to revere it even though it was apparently dead for quite some time… It wasn't my place to judge, though.

Just as the sun disappeared behind the mountains, we made our way up the stairs to the Cloud district. This place was essentially occupied by a single building; the Dragonsreach, the seat of Jarl Balgruuf the Greater, the ruler of Whiterun. The large palace was built right at the peak of the hill, towering over the rest of the city. I kind of felt bad for thinking that but Jorrvaskr had nothing on _this_.

The lone guardsman standing at the door didn't stop us from entering the Jarl's palace, though he did offer an advice. "If you're here to see the Jarl you'd better not waste too much of his time. Balgruuf ain't in the mood right now."

"Thanks for the warning." I replied as we made our way inside.

The interior of the palace looked just as impressive as the exterior. It definitely matched the status of the ruler of Whiterun. The great two-story hall was furnished with carpets and rather expensive looking furniture; walls were decorated with trophies, beautifully crafted weapons and the city's banners hanging from the upper level. Ascending the stairs, we were greeted by the sight of a large fire pit with two long tables placed at its sides. Behind the fire pit we saw the Jarl, seated on a throne placed on a small platform… right under a large dragon skull. For a brief moment I couldn't help but wonder where the Jarl got such a trophy.

Balgruuf was a tall fair-haired man with a goatee, probably in his fifties. The Jarl was in the middle of an argument with his steward so he didn't notice us approaching. His Dark Elf bodyguard did, though and she walked to meet us, scrutinizing us with a suspicious glare and her fingers toying with the hilt of a sword hanging at her belt. Though wearing only a lightweight leather armor, she appeared ready to cut us down the moment we tried anything funny.

Falaere and I tried to look as non-threatening as possible, though it didn't stop the bodyguard from barring our way. "What is the meaning of this interruption? The Jarl's not receiving any visitors." She barked out harshly.

"We have an important message from Riverwood." I responded in a polite tone.

The Dark Elf raised an eyebrow. "A message, you say? What's this about?"

"We were asked to take it directly to the Jarl." Falaere replied before I could. "But if you must know, there was an incident at Helgen. Riverwood's feeling threatened and asks for help."

The bodyguard scowled. "If this is what I think it is… Follow me. Jarl Balgruuf'll want to hear this for himself."

We followed the Dark Elf towards the Jarl's throne. By that time the Jarl had already noticed our presence. "What is this, Irileth?" The man asked in a stern, but not harsh tone. "You know I don't like being disturbed in the middle of a counsel."

"They claim to bear important news, my lord." The bodyguard, Irileth, replied with a bow. "Specifically, about Helgen."

A dead silence fell on the hall. Everyone present, including the maids, turned to stare at us. Jarl Balgruuf glanced at his steward before shifting his attention to us. "So you know what happened at Helgen yesterday?" He questioned. "The reports we've been getting so far are rather… _sketchy_. Some of them mention a _dragon_ , but that seems like an exaggeration."

"It's not, I'm afraid." I said. "Helgen was attacked and destroyed by a dragon."

Jarl Balgruuf froze on his throne as others gasped in shock. "Tell me more." He said stiffly, his features hardening.

I took it on myself to explain. "A fierce black fire spewing bastard, all scales and thorns; destroyed everything and everyone in sight. And it was virtually invincible. After ruining the town it just flew off."

"What were you doing in Helgen?" Irileth asked.

Damn that Dark Elf, she somehow knew there was more to our story.

"An execution of Stormcloak captives took place in the town." Falaere explained. "Due to a misunderstanding, we were among the arrested, along with a retired Imperial Legate. Jarl Ulfric was among the prisoners; we don't know what happened to him, though."

"Yeah and before I forget, I have a request from Alvor." I added. "Riverwood needs aid, in case the damn thing comes back."

Jarl Balgruuf was silent for a few moments, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Aye, I know the man. A blacksmith; reliable, solid fellow. Not prone to flights of imagination…" He then turned to his bodyguard. "It seems you were right, Irileth. By Ysmir, this is worse than I thought."

"My lord, do you really take their word seriously?" The steward, a balding Imperial dressed in a fine garment, objected. "They admitted to being arrested by Imperial Legion! Who's to say they're telling the truth?"

"The Empire's made plenty mistakes in the past, including arbitrary arrests." The Jarl said dismissively. "Besides, true criminals would go into hiding, not seek an audience with the Jarl."

Irileth chose this moment to interject. "If I may, my lord, we should send troops to Riverwood at once. It's in the most immediate danger if that dragon is lurking in the mountains…"

"The Jarl of Falkreath will view this as a provocation!" The steward protested. "He'll assume we're preparing to join Ulfric's forces and attack him!"

Balgruuf barked a mocking laugh. "You're worried about Siddgeir, Proventus?! That snotty incompetent milk-drinker can't even wipe his own arse, much less manage his own hold! Right now, I'm more concerned about my own people! Besides, _you_ advised me to wait for more information; well, here you have it!" The Jarl turned to the Dark Elf. "Irileth, send a detachment to Riverwood at once."

"Will do, my Jarl." Irileth bowed and ran quickly out of the hall.

"If you'll excuse me, I'll return back to my duties." The steward, Proventus, said in a somewhat subdued tone.

"That'll probably be for the best." Balgruuf muttered.

"Very well. I'll be in the library if you need me." With that, the steward walked away at a brisk pace.

The Jarl heaved a long sigh. "As if the civil war wasn't enough, now we have dragons flying about…" He mumbled under his breath before looking back at us. "Anyway, well done, travelers. You've done me and my city a great favor and I won't forget it."

"We just hope the information was useful." Falaere said politely. "Shall we take our leave now?"

"Wait a moment. I have a proposition for you."

"My lord?" I said somewhat warily. My gut told me that whatever the Jarl was about to ask us would bring trouble.

"My court wizard has been studying dragons and dragon lore for some time." Balgruuf explained. "Recently he mentioned some kind of artifact that could prove invaluable to his research and, given the recent events, I'd wager that he'd want it more than ever." He stood up from the throne and headed to the room in the right wing of the palace. "If you follow me, you'll get to speak to him about the details."

Falaere and I glanced at each other. It went against my better judgment to get involved in some arduous and potentially life threatening task. My curiosity eventually won, though. I followed the Jarl to the court wizard's quarters with Falaere walking a few steps behind me.

The wizard's quarters were a mess of enchanting and alchemy equipment, myriad of books, soul gems and piles of scrolls. Right in the middle of it all, sitting behind a table overflowing with research material, was the court wizard, clad in blue hooded robes. "Is there something you need, my lord?" He said in a somewhat weary voice when he noticed us approaching.

"Farengar, I think I've found someone who can help you with your dragon project. Go ahead and fill them in with all the details." The Jarl explained, pointing towards us.

Farengar the court wizard squinted at us. "Ah yes. They'll do, I think."

Just what on Nirn is he talking about?

"Well, what I need is someone to fetch something for me." The wizard cut himself off mid-sentence; it seemed rather theatrical. "Oh, when I say 'fetch', I really mean 'delve into a dangerous ruin in search of a stone tablet that may or may not actually be there'." Oh joy, dungeon delving; at least I won't have to face off against a dragon…

"How's this tablet of yours connected to our dragon problem?" Falaere interrupted.

"Not mere brute mercenary but a thinker, you surprise me." Farengar sounded strangely pleased. Wizards… I'll never understand that lot. "You see, when the stories of dragons began circulating, many dismissed them as fantasies, rumors, impossibilities. The events of Helgen just show what little they know; a fool always dismisses everything beyond his experience as impossible. Anyway, I began to search for information about dragons – where did they vanish all those years ago? And where did they come from?"

"And I guess this tablet holds the answers?" I asked.

Farengar nodded. "This tablet, also called the Dragonstone, is said to contain a map of dragon burial sites. That should answer your question. I, ah, learned it should be located in the Bleak Falls Barrow, an old Nordic crypt near Riverwood. All you need to do is to go there, get into the main chamber, retrieve the Dragonstone and bring it to me; simplicity itself."

"Anything we can use to fight this dragon, or dragons, we need it quickly before it's too late. Succeed at this and you'll be well rewarded." Jarl Balgruuf added. "Can you do that for me?"

To be honest, the thought of traipsing around a dark, old tomb for some slab of stone didn't sound very appealing to me. Who knows what we could find within… I barely survived my first encounter with a dragon; if the damn thing found us again, we'd be dead. On the other hand though, you don't exactly say 'no' to a Jarl… Besides, it might be a good idea to get in Balgruuf's good graces if I wanted to live here. However, I wouldn't decide this without my partner's consent. "Are we up for this?"

Falaere stared at me for a moment before nodding stiffly.

"Alright, we'll take care of the tablet." I said to the Jarl.

"I have a question." Falaere butted in before Balgruuf could reply. "We need information about this 'Bleak Falls Barrow'. How do we get there? And what should we expect once we get inside?"

"The barrow is situated on a hill overlooking Riverwood, a miserable little village south of Whiterun." The court wizard explained. "As for nasty surprises, you should definitely look out for traps. Old Nords took great care to keep treasure hunters out of their crypts. There are also the Draugar…"

"The what, now?" Falaere blurted out, her brows furrowing in confusion.

Oh yes, I knew of those. All those restless nights I had after hearing stories of the bonemen shifting around the ancient dungeons… This just kept getting better and better. "Undead Nordic warriors of old… Some believe they once served the dragons and were cursed with undeath for their treachery." I said, quoting a book I read years ago.

Falaere made a face of both dread and disgust.

Going from fleeing from a dragon to fighting undead warriors; it seemed that my problems were far from over. Still, I couldn't back out of this. "If everything goes smoothly, we should return with the tablet tomorrow."

"Excellent." The Jarl exclaimed in delight. "This entire hold will be in your debt if you pull this off. Good luck."

Now that our business with the jarl was concluded, we could leave the Dragonsreach and head to the nearest inn.

"That's another fine mess we got ourselves into." Falaere grumbled as we made our way towards the entrance. "Did I mention that undead and underground spaces rate among things that my people hate the most?"

I heaved a long sigh. This was going to be a pain, I was sure of it.

* * *

 _Saliyah_

 _Evening of 18_ _th_ _Last Seed, somewhere in Hjaalmarch_

Most of the people would usually avoid swamps and for good reasons. It was a gloomy, sinister looking place, filled with all sorts of nasty creatures just waiting for an unwary traveler to make a single wrong move; mudcrabs as big as a dog, disease ridden skeevers or a stray dreugh, a nasty powerful monstrosity, looking like a cross between a human and a mudcrab. The last one was a rare occurrence, of course, since they generally kept to Cyrodiil, Black Marsh and Morrowind. As for me, though, the hostile environs of a swamp never bothered me. I could defend myself against any creature that decided to jump me and, more importantly, many a plant grew there that could be used as alchemy ingredients.

And this evening, shortly before leaving Solitude, I realized I needed to restock.

My yesterday's conversation with Sybille Stentor had gone on for hours. It wasn't until when Falk the steward interrupted us this morning when I realized how long we spent talking. Sybille then had to leave for the throne room in order to provide the young Jarl Elisif with advice regarding the matters of magic. With her face hidden underneath a hood, no one would tell she was in fact a vampire. As for me, I simply stayed out of everyone's sight until evening. Falk showed me a room in the cellar where I could hide during the daytime.

The court wizard and I managed to cover a myriad of topics in those several hours, including the issue of vampirism. Sybille's insight mostly covered what I already knew; what surprised me was that in some vampire clans, the more powerful vampires treated the weaker ones as lesser beings, slaves. It seemed that the vampiric urge to dominate and enslave wasn't restricted only to mortals. As my thanks, I offered Sybille my personal recipe for a potion against sunlight. Basically it was a highly concentrated potion of fire resistance combined with bolstering healing abilities. The formula took me years to perfect; it was worth the effort, though, since it made travelling during a day bearable, at least. The concoction was also helpful in concealing my nature. Though shocked at first, the wizard took the recipe with gratitude.

Then our talk moved on to more casual topics, such as recent events; for instance, the murder of High King Torygg which Sybille witnessed with her own eyes. It was quite a personal topic for her since she helped to raise the young king. One Ulfric Stormcloak, the current Jarl of Windhelm, had shown up in the Blue Palace several days ago. He accused Torygg of treason and challenged him to a duel. Now, the Nordic tradition stated that should the High King refuse to fight, it would result in his dethronement. So, Torygg had little choice but accept. They realized too late that Ulfric wasn't planning on playing fair. In the duel, he unleashed a _Thu'um_ on the High King; it was some kind of ancient magic, powerful and terrible tongue, as Sybille described it. The power of the _Thu'um_ literally slammed Torygg against a wall, breaking nearly every bone in his body and killing him.

I couldn't imagine what power could do such damage to a man's body, so I made a mental note to find out more about the _Thu'um_ , simply out of curiosity.

Contrary to my expectations, though, I did learn something very important. During our talk, Sybille mentioned that she met another vampire in the Winking Skeever inn a few months ago. He was looking for something called "Bloodspring of Lengeir's feast", supposedly a source of power for vampires. While skeptical of the entire prospect, Sybille pointed him to The Rift based on her knowledge, believing the vampire's quest to be a wild goose chase.

That was a disturbing piece of information, provided it was true. If some powerful vampire got their hands on it then the people would be in serious peril. However, said vampire shared his identity with Sybille… and when she told me, it took every ounce of my willpower not to explode with anger.

 _Venarus Vulpin._

Merely hearing that name made my blood boil in rage. Centuries ago, I knew him as a fellow member of the Anthotis clan of vampires. Only later have I learned that he was in fact a mole, spying for the Vampyrum order of Cyrodiil, and he was largely responsible for the annihilation of Anthotis bloodline. For decades I was hunting down that treacherous snake, only for him to slip through my grasp. Eventually, his trail went cold… until now.

To understand why I embarked on this manhunt, we'd have to go way back into the past, to the time after the fateful ritual.

The first few weeks after being turned, I roamed aimlessly all over Hammerfell, deeply disturbed by what transpired during the ritual. It was hard coming to terms with my vampiric nature. Killing the Molag's cultists provided me with enough blood to keep me sated for several days but even if they deserved their fate, it didn't make me feel any better about being turned into a monster against my will. Returning to Hegathe was not an option, not because I'd meet a certain death but because my family would do their best to help me somehow and that wouldn't be met with much understanding from other citizens. To them, I wouldn't be a victim, but an abomination that needed to be destroyed; if anyone tried to help me, others would think I had enthralled them. Of course as a mere fledgling I had no grasp of the extent of my abilities but they couldn't have known that.

So I ran away. I wanted to die and I desperately sought for anyone who could put me out of my misery. And because I refused to feed, my mind began slowly succumbing to blood lust. Weeks after the ritual, a Breton vampire named Theodric Ysciand found me lying in the sand somewhere in the Alik'r desert, severely weakened and half-insane with hunger. He and his company had to carry me all the way back to their clan's hideout, an old run down castle built on the slope of a mountain; in my pitiful state I wasn't even capable of walking.

The leader of the clan and the progenitor of the Anthotis bloodline was a mysterious person indeed. At first he didn't even consider letting me stay with his clan and, given my state, he thought me a liability. All that changed when he found out I was a pureblood vampire. You see, every vampire that receives their 'gift' from Molag Bal himself has special abilities, unique only to them and the bloodline they created. Anthotis of Skaven possessed superior intellect, surpassing even the most gifted of scholars, and his followers inherited this trait too. Mine was the ability to influence the minds of others, reaching far beyond the Illusion magics; I could alter their emotions, their way of thinking, or even their memories. This unique trait was probably why Anthotis accepted me into his clan.

In many ways, Anthotis vampires were different from other clans. Instead of terrorizing the nearby settlements at night, kidnapping mortals for sustenance and to enthrall, they opted for a… _symbiosis_ of sorts. In the area around the Illiac Bay, there were many other vampire clans, fighting for dominance, including the Thrafey bloodline, our resentful enemies. And they never hesitated to raid the villages in search for cattle, or slaves. So Anthotis offered the leaders of the villages a choice: either they accept the protection from his clan, for a certain fee, of course, or they'd be left defenseless against the attacks from other clans. The fee would entail money, and sometimes even convicts from their prisons to be used as cattle. Sure, there were a few exceptions but most of the villages took on his offer, even though with various degrees of hesitation. _And it worked_. True, I couldn't say that Anthotis made a pact with mortals out of altruism. The deal was beneficial to both sides, despite how much some people loathed admitting it; the mortal settlements were safe and our clan had steady income of both coin and _sustenance_ without having to kill and thus setting the mortals against them. However, this pact also caused the enmity between Anthotis and Thrafey, whose territory bordered with ours and thus they couldn't hunt as freely as they wanted.

Most vampire clans worship Molag Bal as the creator of their kind. Ironically, the very first vampire, Lamae Bal, despised him, and her bloodline had a tradition of profaning the symbols of Molag Bal and Arkay during their rituals. Anthotis himself had spent some time with her cult, learning and eventually accepting the Blood Matron's teachings. To us, Molag Bal was an arch-enemy, and so was Arkay, the one who abandoned his disciple in her time of greatest need. Compared to other bloodlines in the region, Anthotis clan was patient and far-sighted, never to be influenced by their predatory instincts. Only thanks to the clan leader and my good friend Theodric was I ever able to accept what I'd become and make the most of it. There were plenty of things I learned during the few decades I spent with Anthotis clan, such as swordplay, basics of magic, or alchemy and the clan leader taught me to master my vampiric abilities. The beginnings were difficult but I was willing to learn, to do anything to gain control over my urges.

In time, I earned my place in the clan and the respect of its members. The years spent with Anthotis were relatively peaceful, aside from hunting down feral vampires and occasionally beating back a rabble of fanatic peasants who attempted to burn down our home. The clan became something of a new family to me.

Alas, all of that was suddenly and violently torn apart shortly after Venarus Vulpin came to our castle.

The blasted worm came to us in the guise of a survivor from a clan that was killed off by a company of vampire hunters. Some of my friends were put off by his sycophantic demeanor and courteous manners but our leader perceived him as harmless. Vulpin behaved like if he considered us best friends, always chatting with us about seemingly unimportant topics. Only when he had suddenly shut himself away from the rest of us, we, including our leader, began getting suspicious. Then his 'nighttime strolls' came. One day I followed him while he snuck out of our castle, intent on finding out what he was up to. I didn't get very far as the bell started ringing; a signal that our hideout was under attack. At first I thought it was some angry mob… the truth was far worse.

Despite their animosities, vampire clans Thrafey and Vraseth had made an alliance to destroy Anthotis.

Our castle had solid, well built defenses and numerous traps to fight away unwanted visitors. However, our enemies knew how to evade them and quickly overwhelmed us, despite the heavy losses they suffered. Too late I realized that someone was giving away information… and I knew who was responsible. I knew there was nothing I could do, though, as our home was set ablaze.

In that night, clan Anthotis was almost completely wiped out. Master Anthotis of Skaven was slain in a furious battle against Vulpin and the leaders of the attacking clans. Despite all his power, he was outmatched; Vraseth struck him down shortly after he dealt a killing blow to Navarr Thrafey.

I had to fight off dozens of enemies while I rushed to help our leader. When I finally made it into his chambers I could only helplessly watch Anthotis' body disintegrate into ashes. Neither Vraseth nor Vulpin noticed my presence. In the ensuing conversation, Vraseth thanked the traitor for his help in destroying the rival clan. The ancient vampire didn't get very far with his speech as Vulpin rammed a silver dagger hilt deep into his chest.

I still remember Vulpin's chilling words that gave out the whole truth.

" _It's nothing personal, master Vraseth. Your clan would become too strong after this victory… and the Vampyrum order of Cyrodiil can't have that."_

Then he simply vanished into thin air.

For the second time in my life, I lost my home, my friends… _my family_. Our castle was in ruins and all but three members of our clan were dead. Only myself, Theodric, and Ahlaia, a warlock and one of the younger members, were all that remained. We spent days burying and grieving for our dead friends before we all went our separate ways. Theodric rushed to warn the nearby villages that clan Anthotis was wiped out and thus no longer able to protect them. Ahlaia stayed with me for a time before she left without telling me a word.

As for me, I made it my personal mission to hunt down Venarus Vulpin and make him pay for his betrayal… and while I was at it, I'd destroy every Molag Bal worshipping scum I could find. It was the instinct to dominate that our kind inherited that was the cause of all this anyway. The daedra bastard was out of my reach so the best way to hurt him was to snuff out his influence.

This mission of mine eventually brought me here, to Skyrim and this Gods-forsaken swamp.

Fully absorbed by my memories, I didn't notice that during my hunt for ingredients I strayed to a small town at the edge of the marsh. That had to be Morthal, the capital of the Hjaalmarch. It didn't seem like much from where I was standing.

Then I saw flames rising from one of the houses. It was night and the fire could be seen a mile away, even by a mortal's eye. Worse, there might've been people inside. If I was hesitant to run and get those poor sods out of the flaming trap, a dark figure creeping around the burning house convinced me.

I started running as fast as my legs would allow me, hoping that I wasn't too late.

* * *

Author's note: _Alright everyone... First of all, I apologize for the (so very) late update on the one hand, and for being absolutely full of shit regarding my earlier comments about having improved my working morale on the other. While I did make some progress it ain't nearly enough to justify the several months long wait. Just recently I finally finished the story I focused most of my attention on (To be a Huntsman - RWBY fanfic) and I should be able to update more frequently but of course I know better than to promise something that I'm not hundred-percent sure about so... All I can say is that I'll try to update at least twice a month but I know myself too well to know that I can't really guarantee that. So here's that and once more, I apologize for the long wait.  
_

 _To_ TheWildHunt: _No bad character around? Well, here you have one and more are coming! (probably LOL) As for the rating, while I'm keeping it on T for now, it might move up to M over time since I've planned quite ahead with this story and sooner or later things are bound to get quite, um,_ messy _. But anyway, thanks for the review and I hope the fic won't disappoint you anywhere in the future :-)_

 _As always, thanks for reading, review, favorite or follow; compliments and/or critique always welcome :-)_


	5. V) From hunter to hunted

Chapter 5 – From hunter to hunted

 _Saliyah_

 _Night of 18_ _th_ _Last Seed, Morthal_

The sounds of my own footsteps were the only thing I heard as I sprinted towards the burning house.

The angry red flames were rapidly consuming the roof and began spreading down, licking at the wooden walls. The sight told me volumes about how much time I had before the fire swallowed the people inside. Judging by the figure stalking around the house and disappearing moments after I noticed the flames, the fire was no accident. I had no time to wonder why someone would do such thing, however. The occupants of the house had only little time left before the fire consumed them.

As I got closer to the inferno, I felt the scorching heat from yards away. It reminded me that my condition made me vulnerable to fire. There was no time to gulp down a potion of fire resistance, though. So, I just barged into the burning house, hoping that I would get the occupants out before the flames could harm me.

The inside of the house was already being eaten by flames. Everything that could burn was set alight. Shielding my face from the scorching heat, I looked around the doomed building searching for people. My gaze fell on a woman in a dark gown kneeling beside a bed and coughing heavily. I could tell she was struggling to remain conscious. Without delay, I picked her up from the floor and hoisted her limp body onto my shoulder.

"Hroggar? Is that-" The woman coughed. She must've thought I was her husband.

"Save your strength. We have to get out of here." I shushed her gently, doing my best to block out the burning pain. My clothes covered most of my body and kept the flames from harming me. My face remained unprotected, though, and I could already feel my skin blistering.

"Where's our child?" She groaned out. "Where's Helgi?"

I'd just made it out of the burning building when I heard a scream of terror.

"Mama! Help!"

"Damn it!" I cursed and dropped the woman on the stairs in front of the house. She yelped in surprise as she landed hard on the wooden planks. "Stay here! I'm going after your girl!" Not waiting for her response, I took off to where the scream came from. As I pursued the kidnapper I downed a vial with a healing potion I had strapped to my belt, sighing in relief as the burned skin on my face began mending.

I caught up with the kidnapper at what appeared to be a small cemetery. The figure was hunched over a girl with long black hair that kept kicking and screaming in an effort to get away. The abductor caught the girl's tiny hands in theirs and then went straight for the little thing's _neck…_

Using my superior speed, I pushed the vampire off the girl before it could bit into her. The bloodsucker was sent sprawling into the snow but quickly jumped on its feet to face me. Even in the near dark I could see the face of a young Breton woman. She was a barely week old fledgling; the only thing that distinguished her from mortals was her shining blood red eyes. Her expression of fury turned into an amused sneer when she recognized what I was.

"Never thought I'd meet another of my kind around here."

I quickly glanced at the girl that watched our exchange, paralyzed with terror. "Get out of here!" I barked at her.

Broken out of her petrified state, Helgi scampered away. I then turned back to the young vampire before me.

"You've come too late, _sister._ " She sneered at me as we circled around each other. "This town's blood belongs to us!"

"Is that right?" I scoffed.

"Alva and Movarth already set their plan in motion!" The fledgling cackled madly. "Soon, the people of Morthal will become our cattle!"

' _Alva and Movarth', huh?_ The first name rang no bells. However, if this 'Movarth' was who I thought it was… Then it would be the irony at its finest.

The fledgling lunged at me, trying to take advantage of my momentary distraction. The poor stupid thing had no idea who she was dealing with, though.

I easily evaded the knife she swung at me and when we were side by side I grabbed her by the neck and slammed her onto the ground. The vampire grunted in pain as she landed heavily on her back. She began struggling against my grip, clawing at my hand around her throat. Using my superior strength I lifted her and tossed her against the nearby rock. The fledgling impacted on the rocky wall with a muffled thud and collapsed on the ground. I closed the distance between me and her before she could recover and grabbed her by the throat once again, pressing her against the cold rock.

"What is Movarth planning? Is he acting alone? And who is this 'Alva' character?" I questioned harshly, applying a bit more pressure on her neck, just to make sure she wouldn't get away.

The vampire laughed. "You must be stupid to think I'd tell you!"

I flashed a sinister smile in response. "Oh but you will." Before the vampire could reply I sunk my fangs into her neck. An agonized scream tore out of her throat as I began channeling magicka through the bite.

When a vampire turns someone, they create a kind of bond with the person they infected. It works the similar way to the process of enthralling but it serves to subliminally influence the personality of the victim, not to destroy it completely. I was capable of using my charm abilities to sever that bond and restore the person's mind to a degree. The vampire I had in my grip was young, so breaking the bond with whoever turned her would be easy. Soon, the fledgling fell unconscious, her body going limp within my grip.

The next moment, an arrow lodged itself into my shoulder. The robe I was wearing did absolutely nothing to stop it.

I bit back a scream of pain as I released my hold on the vampire and grabbed the shaft sticking out of my body. It was a stupid mistake on my part; it escaped my mind that the fire must've attracted the attention of the local guards.

And now they probably thought I was the perpetrator.

Heavy footsteps and angry voices were drawing closer to us.

"There they are!"

A bunch of guardsmen was approaching us, all armed to the teeth and accompanied by a few confused townspeople. I tore the arrow out of my shoulder, doing my best to block out the pain shooting through my body. Then I raised my hands up to appear as non-threatening as possible, though I did keep my blade in the sheath, just in case.

With the 'kill first, ask questions never' routine, that was applied in an encounter with a vampire, this could get ugly fast.

The guards made a half circle around me and the knocked out fledgling. The civilians were hanging back, in the relative safety behind raised shields. They started whispering among each other, thinking that I couldn't hear them. Thanks to my superior senses, I could easily make out what they were saying.

"What in Oblivion is going on here?"

"Did she set Hroggar's house on fire?"

"Don't know but we'd best be careful, I don't like the look of her."

"Not to mention she shrugged that arrow off like nothing. Who is she?"

"What about the one on the ground?"

I rolled my eyes at their exchange. Talking about me like if I wasn't even there…

Finally one of them made a step forward. "You there! Take the hood off!"

Oh dear, that was exactly what I was trying to avoid. Once they realized what I was, any chances of resolving this peacefully would vanish into smoke. "With all due respect, I don't think this is a good idea." I tried reasoning with the guard.

The man scowled. "Don't try my patience, woman!" He sure was persistent.

I heaved an annoyed sigh. "Oh fine, have it your way then." If it came to the worst, I could simply shift into my beastly Vampire Lord form; it would be enough to scare the rabble off and then make my escape.

Keeping my left hand in the air, I slowly pulled down the hood concealing my face with the other.

For a few first moments, nothing happened.

"A Redguard? Here in Hjaalmarch?"

"What could a sand rat possibly want in this wasteland, anyway?"

Right, not all Nords were welcoming towards outsiders. But slurs aside, it seemed that this altercation could be resolved without a fight.

Until one of the older guardsmen gasped in terror.

"Ye gods, the eyes! LOOK AT THE EYES!"

The others looked at the man in surprise.

"What are you on about, Odrin?"

"Her eyes, idiot!" The guard named Odrin snapped back. "She's a vampire! _A bloodsucker_!"

That did it.

While the commoners began backing up, the guardsmen and a few local brawlers raised their blades and began marching forward. The killing intent couldn't be any more obvious.

I made a few steps back. "Careful, don't do anything we all might regret!" I warned them… not that I hoped it would stop their assault. Once a vampire was found out it was usually sentenced to death, the punishment to be carried out immediately.

"Kill the damn abomination!"

"Burn the vampire!" Of course, someone had to know fire was the one thing that hurt vampires more than anything.

Somebody fired another arrow at me. I saw it coming this time though.

It seemed that I had to resort to force in order to get out of this pickle.

I was just reaching for my blade when a high pitched voice cut through the hubbub.

"No! Stop!"

It was that little girl, Helgi. She pushed her way through the armored crowd and stood in between me and the men who were about to try and cut me into pieces.

"You can't kill her!" The guardsmen halted in their tracks, thoroughly confused by her proclamation.

"Child, that woman is a monster!" Odrin admonished softly. "If we don't cut her down now she'll kill us all in our sleep!"

"She saved me from the other one!" Helgi shot back.

The guards shared puzzled looks. "The other one?"

"The one on the ground, right there!" The girl pointed at the Breton vampire who lay sprawled on the snow behind me, yet to wake up.

"Helgi, come back here!" A woman pushed through the crowd, calling out to the girl. She had to be Helgi's mother. I hoped she remembered me pulling her out of the fire.

Helgi remained stubbornly in place. "Mama, you can't let them kill her!"

"We can't take that kid seriously." One of the guardsmen remarked. "She's in shock; a vampire tried to kill her, for Shor's sake!"

"I believe her."

All eyes were now on Helgi's mother. Others couldn't believe that she would stand up for a bloodsucker, not that I would blame them. I've seen what kind of damage a vampire can do, especially a feral one; were I in the place of these guards, I would've probably cut me down too.

By that time, the altercation had attracted the attention of the entire town. Villagers were lined up behind the guardsmen, contemplating the scene with a mix of apprehension and curiosity.

"You can't be serious, Elsod!" A brawny looking man clad in a set of cheap iron armor exclaimed incredulously.

Helgi's mother, now identified as Elsod, shot him a glare. "I am dead serious, Benor. I would've burned to death in that house if it weren't for her." So she remembered; that was good. "At first I thought it was Hroggar who dragged me out of the fire. That was _before_ I found out that _my dear husband_ was guzzling down mead in the inn this entire time!"

Now that caused quite a stir among the townsfolk. What kind of man and father would sit in a tavern while his family was trapped in a burning house? That just wasn't right.

Of course, Hroggar wasn't even there to defend himself.

"That's stupid." One of the townspeople scoffed. "Vampire would never willingly step into a burning house, much less for a _mortal_."

"Means that I'm not your ordinary, man-eating bloodsucker." I said with a sardonic smile, careful not to show off my fangs. The people were pretty nervous already; no need to add to their agitation.

"Hear that? She even admitted it!" Odrin exclaimed, pointing his sword at me.

"My point still stands." Elsod insisted. "I don't know why she saved me, but she did."

It was pretty clear that the others weren't convinced. I didn't like how this situation was dragging on; the other vampire was still unconscious but that could change at any moment. Who knows what she'd do when faced with an angry armored mob; all my attempts at diffusing the situation would be for naught.

"Maybe it's insane." Benor suggested. "More of a reason to kill the damn thing and be done with it."

"Now, I'd advise you not to do anything rash." The mob split in the middle as an old shriveled woman, at least seventy winters old and finely clothed, walked through at a slow place. She was accompanied by two men. One was probably fifty winters old and wore some pretty expensive robe; the other was the youngest of the three, clad in a set of light armor, most likely a bodyguard. The woman set her dark eyes on the crowd gathered around. "That goes for all of you."

"Jarl Idgrod," One of the guardsmen said. "With all due respect, I think it unwise to allow the vampires in our midst to remain alive! Who knows what they can-"

"Silence, Gronnir!" Jarl Idgrod snapped back with a ferocity I'd never expect from an old lady. "What I understand is that a house burned down, nearly killing a mother and her child! I warned you days ago that a tragedy was to strike soon, yet none of you listened! And there you have it!" Then the Jarl looked at me. "Though my visions never said anything about an interference of a stranger, much less a _vampire_."

So she was some kind of seer, as well?

Then the old woman made her towards me, with her bodyguard and the other man in tow. The townsfolk seemed worried that their leader was approaching a bloodthirsty monster like me. I wasn't about to try and hurt anyone… but they couldn't have known that.

As the Jarl approached me, Helgi moved out of her way and joined her mother who was observing the scene from afar. Even in the dark I could see the dirty looks they gave me. They didn't trust me, I didn't exactly blame them, though.

The Jarl and her escort stopped a few paces away from me. Everyone was nervous and rightly so; being closer than ten paces to a vampire was _beyond_ dangerous.

Idgrod was strangely calm, for some reason. "What do you have to say for yourself, _night prowler_?"

"I saw a burning house and a figure skulking around. I figured that was no coincidence." I replied calmly. "I won't lie and say I had no second thoughts about entering a burning house but only a monster would sit back and do nothing as people burn alive in the blaze."

"Funny that you of all _things_ would say that." The housecarl muttered.

"Quiet, Gorm." The Jarl commanded and went back to the questioning. "I can feel that's not the 'entire picture', as they say."

"Well, when the figure was trying to bite Helgi's neck I knew something wasn't right." I explained. "Given my _condition_ , I know for sure that when a vampire wants to feed it wouldn't bother setting the victim's house on fire."

The vampire behind me began to stir.

I had to make sure she wouldn't try and kill anyone. I was pretty confident that her bond with whoever turned her was destroyed; she'd still remember everything she did as a vampire, though. She'd be both confused and terrified once the reality hit her and even I couldn't predict how someone in her state of mind would act.

Slowly as not to arouse suspicion, I began backing up. "It seems our 'arsonist' is waking up." I noted, carefully watching the others' reaction. Gorm the housecarl had his blade half drawn but didn't move otherwise. "I need to make sure she won't do anything stupid. Anyway, this vampire," I continued speaking even as I pulled the vampire in a seating position. Fortunately, she was still half asleep. "was turned recently, maybe a week ago."

I could clearly see a couple of guardsmen exchange uneasy looks.

"When I interrupted her _feeding time_ , she attacked blindly. Fledglings are like that, overconfident and reckless." I knelt down behind her and slowly pulled out my saber, laying it to her neck. If she tried something she wouldn't 'live' long enough to regret it. "Thinking she could take me out, she began boasting and ended up giving away a vampire plot to take over Morthal."

The last piece of information caused quite an uproar amongst the townsfolk; hushed whispers laced with cries of women bordering on hysteria.

Idgrod was suddenly alarmed. "Are you absolutely sure?" She demanded in her raspy voice.

"Yes." I answered firmly. "In fact, you can ask her _yourself_."

The other vampire was still groggy and weak from when I used my powers on her. I had to lift her head up to give Idgrod a clear view of her face.

One of the villagers, clothed in a simple set of farming clothes and holding a torch, suddenly bolted forward with a gasp. He got maybe five paces close to her when he stopped, his jaw going slack as he stared at the vampire in my grasp. Moments later he let out a strangled cry and his legs gave out under him.

A couple of guards managed to catch him before he dropped to the frozen ground.

The vampire tried struggling within my grip but ceased her effort when I dug my blade a bit further into her throat. "What's wrong with him?" I asked, jerking my head towards the man that fainted.

"His name's Thonnir." The finely clothed man on Idgrod's side said with a grim expression. "His wife Laelette vanished a week ago; some say she joined the Stormcloak rebellion, others thought something in the marshes got her."

It wasn't too hard to connect the dots, as they say. "I presume this is Thonnir's wife?" I gestured to the captive vampire.

The only answer I got was a curt nod.

Laelette the vampire began sobbing uncontrollably, much to the confusion of others. For me it meant that I managed to revive her old personality, or a large part of it at least.

"We will continue this conversation somewhere warm; Divines know that the chill does these old bones no good." Jarl Idgrod said with a grim expression. "But first, I need to make sure you and Laelette won't present a threat to our town."

And here I thought she was willing to trust me. "With all due respect-" I began but she cut me off mid-sentence.

"My people are shocked enough that I didn't have you cut down where you stand." The old woman continued. "Letting you walk around _unsecured_ would be met with even less understanding."

As much as I loathed admitting it, she was right. I wasn't about to challenge Idgrod's authority, albeit unintentionally.

One of the guardsmen had already procured a thick rope and handed it to Gorm the housecarl.

Letting out a disgusted huff, I stood up, still keeping a firm grip on Laelette. "Fine, have it your way, then. But know that I do _not_ like this one bit."

Gorm cut the length of the rope in two parts, giving one to the couple of guardsmen who then went to restrain the other vampire. "Duly noted, bloodsucker; now put your hands behind your back!"

I wordlessly did as he said, seeing no point in arguing. Aside from binding my hands, he also took away my weapons and the knapsack with potions and reagents. Laelette whimpered pathetically as they restrained her, not even trying to struggle.

I couldn't keep myself from grinding my teeth as the mob paraded us through the town; I hated being vulnerable like this.

There was the hoping Idgrod and her people were willing to listen.

* * *

We ended up in a guardhouse the cellar of which served as a town's prison. Laelette was dragged straight to the cell while the guards kept me in the ground floor, telling me that Jarl Idgrod herself and her steward Aslfur would question me. Gorm the housecarl was ordered to keep an eye on me. As I fidgeted uncomfortably on a creaky old chair he cast me a sour glare; we were both equally unhappy to be there.

The door to the cellar suddenly opened only to be slammed shut again. A guardsman walked up the stairs grumbling something under his breath.

"Something troublin' ya, Nils?" Gorm asked.

"It's the blo- I mean that Laelette girl. She just won't stop bawling." Nils explained. "I'm half tempted to just go and put her out of her misery."

"Don't even think about it; Jarl wants her alive for some reason. Is she secured?"

Nils nodded. "No worries, she won't escape with all the chains we put on her." He sighed. "Man, Thonnir must be devastated."

Gorm dropped his angry façade for a moment. "You gotta think of his kid too." He remarked. "Imagine how Virkmund reacts when he learns that his Ma was turned into a monster."

The door to the guardhouse opened and Jarl Idgrod, accompanied by her steward and a hooded man in wizard robe stepped inside. Thankfully, because mere being with Gorm in the same room was giving me a headache.

Idgrod sat down at the chair opposite of me while Aslfur and the wizard stood behind her. Nils remained stationed at the door.

"Now we can talk." The Jarl said. "Now, you mentioned some plot to take over Morthal."

"Yes, the part about enslaving the townsfolk and using them as cattle." I replied. "Laelette let it slip before I _subdued_ her."

The old woman raised her hand and barked at her housecarl. "Gorm, send the word to the guards that they be on the lookout for vampires."

Gorm nodded wordlessly and left the room.

"She also dropped two names."

Aslfur snapped into attention at my remark. "What names? Out with it!"

"Movarth and Alva."

I could almost _feel_ their shocked stares boring through me. Probably not something they anticipated.

"Are you absolutely sure you heard it right?" The wizard questioned. "Alva seemed normal the last time I saw her and believe me when I say that I can recognize a vampire _instantly_."

Aslfur scoffed. "That was weeks ago, Falion. You seem to be always holed up in your house."

"So this Alva is one of the townsfolk?" I asked.

"A local harlot is more like it." Nils remarked with a clear distaste.

 _Oh._

"She must've been turned recently, then." I suggested. "If I may, we might have to question this 'Laelette' as well. She might know something."

Idgrod nodded. "Very well, then." The four of us moved down to the prison. None of them bothered to remove my bindings, though.

Laelette made for a pitiful sight.

The fledgling was locked away in a large metal cage. She was kneeling on the straw covered floor, her hands cuffed behind her back; a chain connected the irons on her wrists and ankles and kept her from standing up. As if that wasn't enough, she had an iron collar around her neck with a chain that was attached to the grating of the cage.

She didn't even look up when we approached the cage.

"Now, _Laelette,_ " I could clearly hear the unease in Idgrod's voice when she said the vampire's name. "We know what you are, and also that you know something about a plot to enslave _my town._ "

The fledgling remained silent.

Aslfur scowled. "You dare ignore the Jarl of Morthal, bloodsucker?!" Falion the wizard observed the scene without as much as a word.

"May I try?" I asked before the steward did something reckless.

My voice seemed to provoke some reaction from Laelette, though. Her head snapped up and she gave me a nasty glare. "You… _You_ _bit me_!"

Idgrod and her subjects stared at me with unconcealed suspicion. Great, now they think _I_ turned Laelette.

"Yes I did. Otherwise you'd still be under the sway of whoever turned you in the first place." I snapped back, hoping the others would understand. "It was the only way to keep you from harming anyone. You're a _vampire_ now; you're dangerous."

"I know _, gods damn it!_ " Laelette wailed.

"Alright, I have to know." Falion spoke up. "What exactly did you do to her?"

"Later, wizard." I brushed him off. There was no time for any scholarly talk. "Laelette, Morthal is in danger. You know something that could help us avert the disaster."

"What's the point?" The fledgling snorted humorlessly. "Movarth and his coven are too strong. Even if I told you everything, you can't stop them."

Falion pulled out a piece of parchment and a sharp piece of charcoal and knelt down to a nearby stool. Probably to take notes, I guessed.

"You can't know for sure. Besides, you're barely a week old; I've been walking round Tamriel for near _three hundred years_." I objected. "Do you really want to just give up on your home town? On your family?"

"I don't have a family!" Laelette screamed back, straining against the cuffs. "They won't want to have anything to do with me! I'm a _monster_ , just like you! And Movarth and… and Alva… and…"

There it was. Alva was the one to turn Laelette; even though she didn't outright say it, I was pretty sure about my guess.

"So Alva did _this_ to you?" Idgrod asked with a grave expression.

The young vampire nodded mutely and began sobbing anew.

"She did something to me while I was- I was… I hated her, yet I was compelled to spend my time with her… It felt wrong but I- I couldn't help it!"

Yes, first she charmed her to gain her trust…

"Then one day Alva said she needed to talk to me… We went to the marsh and then- and then-"

"She turned you." I finished for her.

Laelette was openly weeping at this point. As was common for vampires, instead of tears blood streamed from her eyes. It would take a long time before she'd come to terms with her fate.

"She'd have me do tasks for her, talk about Movarth and his plan to take over the town… and I _obeyed her_. I did whatever she asked, without a second thought!"

"It's a bond between a young vampire and its progenitor." I explained. "The fledgling's compelled to obey the elder vampire's commands and usually even adopt their thinking and attitude. Their old personality is largely suppressed."

"Like a thrall?" Aslfur suggested.

"Thralls are different." Falion corrected without looking away from his notes. "They have no personality on their own and they're unable to think for themselves."

The wizard seemed to know a lot about vampiric lore. That seemed rather curious.

I turned my attention back to the weeping fledgling. "Did Alva tell you to burn down Hroggar's house, too?"

Laelette nodded her response. "Alva also seduced Hroggar; she needed someone to guard her coffin while she was sleeping. His family was getting in her way so she ordered me to get rid of them…"

"It seems we found our arsonist." Aslfur remarked grimly.

There was one thing that piqued my curiosity, though. "This doesn't explain why you tried to kidnap Helgi."

Laelette remained silent for a moment; then she hung her head in shame. "I- I love my son but… I've always wanted a daughter and- and a few months after Virkmund was born I got very sick and- I couldn't bear children anymore- Alva wanted me to kill Elsod and her child but I couldn't- I wanted Helgi to be mine…"

I couldn't help it but feel sorry for her. Helgi would never be truly hers and Laelette would probably have to enthrall her. That would only reduce the innocent young girl into a mindless husk… but she couldn't have known that. It was a good thing that I intervened, otherwise Helgi would've been lost.

Idgrod shook her head in disbelief, disturbed by Laelette's testimony. "It seems that one part of the mystery is solved." She rasped out. "We'll need to search Alva's house for clues, if we want to learn the rest."

"There's something else I haven't mentioned yet." I spoke up. "I may be wrong but… I have a hunch on who this 'Movarth' may be."

"Out with it, then!" Aslfur said rather crossly.

"I once fought a vampire hunter by the name Movarth Piquine back in the final century of the third era." I began recounting my run in with the Breton fighter.

Movarth was a member of the Fighters Guild of Cyrodiil and he set out frequently to fight and slay vampires of various clans. One of his missions led him to Hammerfell and into the territory of Anthotis clan… a few years before that _snake_ Vulpin came around. Back then I wasn't nearly as experienced as I were now; maybe that was why Movarth picked me as his potential kill.

It was a long, hard, violent fight. Far from our clan's castle, I was completely on my own. Movarth was a skilled fighter, for a _mortal_ , and he did cause me some rather serious injuries. In the end, though, I managed to overpower him. I still remembered his face as I knelt over him, pressing my left forearm into his neck; he expected to die.

Alas, I disappointed him.

He landed the first blow… but I landed the last one; I won and that was enough. There was no sense in tearing him apart just to prove that I was stronger.

I did leave him a claw mark on his left cheek… something to remember me by.

I never thought I'd meet him again, much less as a vampire bent on enslaving an entire town. How did he even become a vampire, I wonder…

"I never thought I'd say this but you should've killed him back then." Aslfur grumbled. "We wouldn't have to be dealing with this problem."

"You can't be sure of that." Jarl Idgrod said in response. "It matters not how things could've been. Whoever this Movarth is, he's a threat to my hold and my people and must be dealt with accordingly."

"But how?" The steward questioned. "We can only spare a handful of men and they're not trained to fight vampires!"

"Maybe I could be of some help." I suggested. From what I've heard, Movarth was beyond 'saving'; Molag Bal's influence was rooted too deep in him. The local guardsmen wouldn't stand a chance against the vampire and his coven and I simply couldn't stand back and watch as the entire town gets enslaved.

I may be a vampire, an unnatural abomination, _but I'm no monster._

Idgrod gave me a curious look, almost like if she was able to see through me.

"No, you can't be serious!" Aslfur protested. "I refuse to leave the fate of Morthal in the hands of this _monster_!"

"Haven't I proven myself trustworthy enough already, _steward_?" I hissed back with a scowl.

The steward was just about to retort when the old Jarl intervened. "The decision's not yours to make, Aslfur! I'm not about to drive away someone who may be our only hope of saving this town!" Her voice was surprisingly powerful for an old frail woman. In all honesty I had no idea what made her side with me but she did strike me as someone who always knew more than everyone else around.

The steward wouldn't be convinced so easily, though. "Trusting a _bloodsucker_ of all _things_ is no better solution to our predicament."

Idgrod heaved a weary sigh. "Aslfur, you've always trusted my judgment for as long as I can remember, and I've never given you a reason to doubt my word. Very few people can read the signs the Divines themselves send down. I come from the family where there was at least one seer in each and every generation. I learned to act on my visions long before I became the Jarl, and they never led me astray once. Not once!" The old woman set her gaze at Falion. "If I remember correctly, vampires are spawned from a Daedra, yes?"

The wizard nodded. "True, my Jarl. The first vampire, Lamae Bal was created by-"

I cut him off mid-sentence. "Molag Bal; yes, I know the story." I didn't need to hear the tale; it would bring up memories I'd rather not revisit. The steward shot me a quizzical look, one that I noticed despite his best efforts. Falion looked pretty miffed that I interrupted his lecture but didn't say anything.

Idgrod waved her hand towards Laelette; the young vampire sat quietly in the cage ignoring the rest of us. "That girl over there… I can clearly sense the dark presence inside her, inciting, even _commanding_ her to slaughter everyone she comes across. She's powerless to defy him. Not _this one_ , though." She pointed at me. "The Schemer Prince has little influence over her and she's doing everything within her power to keep it that way. Her soul belongs not to _him_ … not yet."

Falion hummed thoughtfully to himself. While the steward was left puzzled by Idgrod's cryptic speech, the wizard seemed to understand. "Interesting… In any case, she doesn't appear to be feral so I reckon she might be trusted, _to some extent_ at least."

As for me… I was both amazed and unsettled by her abilities. Despite meeting me just about an hour ago, Idgrod had described my personal war against Molag Bal. Some might call me insane for trying to oppose a god-like being. I defied him for centuries though, and I wasn't planning to stop now… or in the future. It was the last sentence that had me somewhat worried. It carried a certain _note_ of finality, as if Molag Bal would defeat me one day. The Schemer must've been furious that someone dared to resist him for so long. I'd wager he had some cruel punishment in store for me in case I submitted to him one day. But that would _not_ happen; I've been at this for too long to simply give up now.

Aslfur listened to the court wizard's assessment with a grave expression. "I can't believe we're even considering the notion of letting a _vampire_ fight our battle…" He grounded out in exasperation, rubbing his forehead.

Honestly, I was tired of his hostile talk. "Look, I'm going to put it in plain terms so you can understand, _steward._ " I adopted a serious and a little condescending tone. "If you send your little militia into the vampire den, they will get _slaughtered_ , even before they reach Movarth himself. No matter how much you want to deny it, _you need me._ "

The steward glowered at me and was about to snap back only to be cut off by Falion. "You may not like it but she isn't wrong."

At least the court wizard was sensible, at least… Still, Aslfur looked like he still needed some convincing.

"Look, you want to spare the lives of your guardsmen, right? I can take Movarth on by myself; if you send me to fight him, _no one dies!_ Lesser vampires don't stand a chance against me and even if I somehow don't survive the battle against Movarth, with his coven gone he'll have to flee. Even with all his might, he can't take on the entire town all by himself!"

"She brings up a fair point." Idgrod rasped out.

Aslfur looked like he wanted to argue but then he thought better of it. With a defeated sigh, he conceded. "Very well, if you're so sure this vampire won't turn on us, then we'll do it your way."

"Excellent!" I said with fake cheer. "Now that we finally settled this, we can actually get something done instead of arguing."

The steward raised his palm. "I'm not done yet." He said in a stern tone. "I may have agreed with your suggestion but that doesn't mean I'll let you strut around alone and _unsupervised._ "

Jarl Idgrod glowered at him, suspicion etched onto her wrinkled face.

"I'll go."

As soon as the court wizard spoke the words, both the Jarl and the steward turned to him. Falion didn't seem deterred by their questioning looks. "There's no one in Morthal that knows as much about vampires as I do. It only makes sense for me to accompany her."

"Very well." Idgrod nodded. "I trust you know how to handle yourself." Aslfur remained quiet, frowning heavily.

"Thank you, my lady." Falion bowed courteously before turning to look at me again. "Am I right to assume you have a plan to handle this situation?"

"I wouldn't call it a plan… But what I do have is a starting point." I replied smoothly. "We need to investigate Alva's house."

* * *

A short time later Falion and I were on our way to Alva's house.

The men that guarded me earlier weren't pleased about the Jarl's decision to let me solve Morthal's vampire situation. Fortunately, they knew better than to question Idgrod's judgment. Plus, that utterly scandalized expression on Gorm's face after he was ordered to remove my bindings was absolutely priceless… It felt good to stretch my hands again. I also got back my scimitars since I obviously needed these to fight. My backpack still remained in the Jarl's possession, though.

The two of us stopped at the doorstep of Alva's house. Falion knocked at the door; at this ungodly hour nobody could possible expect someone to answer. Alva was more than likely awake though, given her vampiric nature.

The door didn't open, however.

"She must suspect something since her plan failed." I muttered under my breath.

Falion grunted affirmatively. "So, what do we do?"

"That's easy." Before the wizard could protest, I slammed my foot into the door, right near the handle. The wood gave away under the force of the kick and the door flew open, the portion containing the lock breaking off in the process.

With my hand on the hilt of my scimitar, I walked inside the house. No one was at home. All candles and lanterns were put out but thanks to my enhanced sight I could see as clear as in the daytime. I glanced around the room, looking for anything suspicious.

Without warning, Falion conjured a magelight. The unnaturally bright orb of light illuminated the darkened room, effectively blinding me for a few seconds. "I don't see anything out of the ordinary."

"Maybe we should look into the cellar." I replied, pointing at the staircase leading to the lower level.

The wizard nodded in response. "It might be worth a try, at least."

The cellar turned out to be just as empty as the rest of the house. The only thing standing out was a large coffin placed directly in the middle of the room. Alas, it was empty. I was about to head back upstairs when I noticed a small journal lying inside, bound in dull red leather.

I hummed thoughtfully as I picked up the small book. "It might provide us with some clue…"

And it did.

It was Alva's journal; if its contents were to be believed, she used to be a simple girl that spent most of her life waiting for her 'dream man'. I flipped through the tattered pages until I came across an entry where she described her meeting with Movarth.

I chuckled internally at that. _You should've been careful what you wished for, stupid wench._

Her journal also described Movarth's plot: the enslaved mortals would become cattle for sustenance while their homes would provide a shelter from the burning sun. It was horrific and ingenuous at the same time. Much to our luck, Alva didn't forget to include her turning Laelette… _and the location of Movarth's coven:_ in a seemingly inconspicuous cave just northeast of Morthal, at the edge of the marshes.

"Falion!" I called out to the wizard. "We found where Movarth's hiding at! A cave northeast of town."

"Let me see!" Falion exclaimed and took the journal from my hands. He skimmed through the last few pages of the journal, grinning widely after finding the second to last entry. "A lead, finally! The Jarl is going to be pleased." He said happily, tucking the journal into his pocket. "So what's our next step?"

"That's easy." I replied with a half-smirk. "We're paying a visit to Movarth and his friends."

* * *

Author's note: _And thus ends the first part of my take on "Laid to rest" quest, without both the Dragonborn's involvement and anyone to actually lay to rest (HAHAHAHAAAAH! ... Okay, I'm gonna show myself out now). After that we'll leave Saliyah alone for a bit and focus on other three characters._

 _As always, thanks for reading, review, favorite or follow; compliments and/or critique always welcome :-)_


	6. VI) Immortal blood

Chapter 6 – Immortal blood

 _Saliyah_

 _Early morning of 19_ _th_ _Last Seed, marshes of Hjaalmarch_

"Would you slow down a bit?" Falion bit out in irritation as he crept behind me. "I don't know if you noticed but us mortals don't see much in the dark."

"You'll have to make do with the moonlight then, wizard, because light spells would give us away and I'm not going to hold your hand!" I snapped back quietly, doing my best to rein in my anger. This could've been so much easier if I went to Movarth's hideout by myself but Idgrod's steward would hear none of it, insisting that Falion accompany me. I understand they had a good reason not to trust me and, let's face it, trusting a vampire was nothing short of a suicide, under _normal_ circumstances that is… But damn it, things would be so much easier if they let me handle Movarth alone. Now I had to babysit a wizard that fancied himself capable enough to take me on if I "went rogue", which of course would never happen but convincing mortals to believe my word would be a waste of time.

After we were done searching Alva's house, we took her journal straight to the Jarl. Idgrod was understandably upset that a right hand of a powerful vampire was hiding among the townsfolk this entire time, disguised as a promiscuous but harmless woman. Though it was alarming news, the Jar wanted to keep it under wraps for now in order not to incite panic around Morthal. Then she gave me and Falion an order to get rid of Movarth before he realized that his prey knew of his scheme. On our way through the town, we heard the guards saying that Hroggar disappeared and so did Alva; there was a good chance the vampiric slag either took him with her to Movarth's den or she killed him to divert attention from her.

So there we were, making our way through tall grass and small bushes towards the cave where Movarth Piquine, a vampire hunter turned an actual vampire (I still can't help it but marvel at the irony of all that), and his coven were hiding. There was a possibility that Movarth had been warned that somebody was onto him and the entire coven was prepared to cut down anyone foolish enough to enter their hideout. This would give them an edge if it was Morthal's militia that attacked; those poor sods wouldn't stand a chance against vampires under any circumstances. Of course, the coven didn't count on a Vampire Lord assaulting their hideout.

I couldn't help it but smirk at the thought. Movarth and his cronies were in for one rude awakening.

The hideout was located on the edge of the marshes. AT the first glance it was just an unassuming little cave. Of course judging by the figure standing in front of the entrance, it was pretty clear to anyone that someone resided inside, someone dangerous.

We hid in the nearby bush and waited for the guard to look away. The man was dressed in hide armor like most common bandits but I knew better. He was a thrall; his stiff, strangely uncoordinated movements as he turned around shambled in the opposite direction gave it away. I gestured the Redguard wizard next to me to wait and then I crept up behind the unsuspecting guard.

Drawing one of my sabers I grabbed the thrall from behind and cut across his throat, snapping its neck to make sure he'd stay down. After decades of dealing with feral vampires and Molag Bal's cultists, I became well versed at killing silently.

With the obstacle out of the way, we could head inside the hideout.

I let Falion watch my back as we entered the cave; it was only right that the stronger went in first and I didn't need the wizard to get in my way.

The dark narrow passage before us twisted and took a sharp left after several paces, leading us into a large chamber illuminated by fires. There was a wooden scaffolding and stairs leading down to the lower floor.

And there were also an entire nest of frostbite spiders.

We couldn't dispose of them without alerting the vampires that most likely lurked in the deeper section of the cave. Luckily I was very well versed in Illusion school of magic so all I needed to do was to cast a Fury spell at the biggest one of them. The rest took care of itself shortly.

After the spiders finally killed each other off we could finally continue. I couldn't help it but wonder why Movarth didn't have the nest cleared out when he and his coven moved into this place. Maybe he somehow charmed the little beasts so they wouldn't attack him or his minions. If so, then I was curious to find out how he did it… but that could wait for another time.

The passage from the chamber led into a small intersection, lit up by few torches. There was a table with a couple of chairs, one of them occupied by another guard. _Another enthralled bandit, most likely._

"How do we get past her?" Falion questioned, keeping his voice down. "We can't continue without being seen; she'll notice us and raise an alarm."

"Correction: _you_ can't." I smirked at him. "But I do. Just stay here and watch."

The court wizard blinked in surprise when I cast an Invisibility spell on myself and vanished before his very eyes. He could only watch as I snuck up behind the thrall and snapped her neck, the invisible cloak breaking the moment I touched her.

"That was an impressive demonstration of arcane knowledge." Falion whispered in a dry tone as he rejoined me. "Then again, vampires do like ambushing their prey unseen."

I decided to ignore his remark. "I'm going to check the corridor right ahead. Wait her and don't let anyone see you."

The path I explored turned out a dead end. There were only a few carts loaded with bloodied bones. It seemed that Movarth and his bunch had a feast recently… Huffing in disgust I backtracked to the intersection and took the path on our left.

It led into another chamber. This one was smaller and it seemed vacant… until I caught a soft murmuring somewhere on our left. I dragged Falion back into the shadows and went to investigate.

I found a large hole in the ground near a pile of corpses. The dead were all stripped of all their clothes and valuables and their skin was deathly pale; I suspected they were sucked dry. There was a Dunmer vampire digging in the ground with a shovel, muttering to himself.

"Damn Movarth and his little band of bootlickers… It was my idea to lure those mortals into the trap. _Mine!_ And what do I get? They're pouring blood down their gullets all day night and throwing coin around and _I_ get stuck here doing the dirty job! Just you wait, cheating scum! One day, you'll be the one at the bottom… I'll show you all… one day…"

It seemed that this vampire was one of those in the lower part of the hierarchy. For a lesser vampire he certainly didn't lack ambition, though; too bad he wouldn't live long enough to set his plans in motion… Using the Invisibility spell I crept up behind the vampire and snapped its neck before he realized he had a company.

True, sneaking up on a vampire is more challenging than on a mortal, thanks to our kind having keener senses and all that, but I had centuries of practice and experience so it became pretty much natural to me.

After getting rid of the gravedigger I returned to the court wizard.

"This is too easy." Falion frowned. "You'd think Movarth would have more of his people around here."

"They're probably holed up in the deeper part of the cave." I argued.

"Or they aren't here at all. What if he had launched the attack on Morthal already?"

"I really doubt that." I told him. "If they did, we would've intercepted them on our way here. Still, there's no time to stand around and chat. I'll go scout ahead; wait here and stick to the shadows."

"So I'm supposed to be waiting around while you do all the dirty work?" The wizard questioned. "Hardly sounds fair to me."

"The steward sent you here to keep an eye on me, not to help me clear out this den." I smirked. "I think it's perfectly fine that you sit back and enjoy my handiwork."

"Not the word I'd use." The Redguard said dryly. "Very well, I'll remain here."

A broad corridor led deeper in the cavern and then cut sharply to the right. There was a scaffolding leading up to the rocky ledge above the ground; an ideal vantage point. I crept up along the ledge to get a view of what lay behind the corner.

What I saw was most likely the main chamber of the vampire hideout. There was a long table in the center, laden with bloody meat (I didn't even have to make a guess about its origins) and several pouches of coin. Three vampires sat at the table, engaged in a rather heated discussion while three thralls shuffled around.

The one sitting on the wooden throne at the head of the table instantly got my attention. His condition might've altered his appearance a bit, namely glowing amber eyes, sunken cheeks, wrinkles around his eyes and mouth and a dark line below his nose and running all the way down to his chin.

Most of his feature didn't change over the eyars, though; bald head, angular jawline, sharp chin, a long jagged scar running down his left cheek…

This was Movarth Piquine, alright.

I didn't know how he got turned into a vampire. Given the circumstances, it didn't matter; he was a threat and had to be disposed of accordingly.

"You still haven't told me why the sudden change of plans, Movarth." One of the vampires snarled. "Just yesterday you said we'd be ready to make our move on Morthal in just a few days!"

"Our sleeper agent in the town came here, saying that her plan went a little complicated, and she asked me to give her more time to set things in motion." Movarth said smoothly. "You'd do well to practice some patience, Nystolf."

"That wench Alva should learn to do her job properly, then!" Nystolf complained. "I'm tired of waiting!"

"As much as I hate to agree with our 'friend' here," The third one cut in, a former High Elf judging by his looks. "He might be right about Alva. Her abilities leave a lot to be desired; it seems like she's getting drunk on her new powers instead of sticking to our plan."

Movarth shot him a sharp glare. "Are you questioning my decision, Athedaen?"

"Of course not, Master!" If the Elf was intimidated, he didn't show it. "I merely say that doesn't seem competent enough for her task."

"That may be so, but she's _loyal_ to me, unlike many others I worked with in the past. And she's eager to please, in more ways than one." Movarth smirked, licking his lips hungrily. It reminded me of one of the entries in Alva's journal; she was seduced the same way she did to Hroggar. At this point she was little more than a thrall, I assumed. She might've retained her memories and emotions but they were so perverted by Movarth's powers that she became obedient and fiercely 'devoted', though not in the good way. "And she brought that Nord with her as an apology. He'll make fine cattle to feed on while we're stuck in here."

Shit, she got Hroggar. If we didn't take action now, he'd be a dead man soon. Taking care not to be spotted, I returned back to Falion.

He knew instantly that there were complications. "I assume whatever you found isn't good."

"You'd be right." I said tersely. "Movarth is here; the problem is that he's got numbers on his side. If we try attacking him head on it might not end well for us." In fact, it might end badly for _Falion_ but I wasn't about to say that.

So we backtracked towards the entrance, looking for any alternative routes to the deeper sections of the cavern. We were in luck because in the dead end, where the human bones had been dumped, there was an opening to another corridor. It was solid eight feet above the ground level, though so we had to climb; easy task for me… not so much for my companion.

The narrow passage twisted through the rock, leading into a broader section with a couple of thralls on patrol. As usual, I left Falion behind and went to dispose of the obstacles. The first one fell easily enough. The other though just happened to notice me when my invisible cloak failed moment after killing the first guard. Only a quick use of calm spell kept him from screaming in alarm. I put him out of his misery by slitting his throat while the spell kept him docile.

Once the area was cleared we continued on our way.

Much to my displeasure, the passage led to the familiar hall. Movarth was still on his throne, arguing with the other two vampires, Nystolf and Athedaen.

This was not good. We only got rid of two other thralls and these weren't nearly as dangerous as the vampires. I need something to improve our chances.

"Falion, what is the strongest creature you can summon?"

" _A Dremora lord._ " Falion looked proud of himself as he replied. "Being one of the few masters of Conjuration school of magic does have its perks."

Nevertheless, it was an impressive feat. The strongest thing I could summon was a storm atronach and that would usually deplete all my magicka reserves. "Will you still be able to cast spells afterward?"

"Oh, absolutely." The wizard smirked. "I'm more dangerous than I look."

"Good to hear, because it will take everything we have to clear out this vampire lair." I reached down my belt and pulled out a vial of fire resistance potion. I'd need it for what we were about to do.

"What's that for?" Falion questioned as he saw me down the vial. "Vampires don't use fire based spells, as far as I know."

"That's true, but not because they can't." I explained to him. "Vampires avoid using fire spells because fire _hurts_ them; doesn't matter if it's natural or arcane. I'm planning to capitalize on that."

The Redguard gave me a curious glance. "You're going out of your way to kill your own kind."

"Why do you think I drank that potion? Movarth and his underlings will know instantly what I am once they come out to fight us. The thing is, they won't expect me to lob fireballs at them. Combine that with you mastery of Conjuration and we'll be a force to be reckoned with."

"I hope you're right." Falion muttered, glancing towards the vampires that were still unaware of our presence. "So… How do you want to do this?"

"It's simple, I'll create a distraction and then you summon your Dremora and order it to attack. Then I'll go after Movarth himself."

"Rather straightforward, but it just might work." Falion hummed. "What's the distraction?"

"… Just watch." With that I lobbed a couple of fireballs right at the table where the vampires were sitting. It hurt like a bitch but the results were worth it.

Movarth and his cronies leapt up from their chairs as fire exploded all around them, shrieking in both surprise and pain.

A few paces before us, the air suddenly turned a hue of purple and began swirling. Then a Dremora leapt out of the vortex. The creature sniffed the air and then roared "I SMELL WEAKNESS!" Vampires hate being called weak so whether it said that on purpose or not, the Dremora would be facing all of them.

A perfect distraction.

Every vampire in the chamber focused their attention on the large armored Dremora that charged at them, brandishing its enormous sword.

I summoned a flame atronach; it might be the weakest of all elemental summoning but right now it was the best choice. Frost atronach was useless since my kind is immune to cold and conjuring a storm atronach would drain me of all magicka. I'd have to rely on my blades alone; not a good choice when you're fighting 'bloodsuckers'.

A flaming feminine figure materialized a few feet to my right; it looked at me, silently asking for orders.

I pointed at the mess of vampires and thralls that flowed into the chamber and advanced on us. "Kill everyone that attacks me or my companion over there." I said glancing towards Falion. The court wizard held his own pretty well against the horde. His lightning spells and the Dremora under his command kept the hostiles in a safe distance. None of the vampires died so far but some of their thralls had already been dead, sliced apart by the Dremora's blade.

My atronach nodded with a sinister grin and began showering the vampires with firebolts.

"I honor my lord… BY DESTROYING YOU!" The Dremora's cry resounded through the chamber, easily drowning out the hissing of vampires.

Drawing my saber, I headed right for Movarth. The former vampire hunter hung back and let his underlings do the fighting, only occasionally firing off an ice spike at Falion. He didn't notice me coming… at least until I tossed a fireball at him and scored a direct hit.

Movarth screamed as his robes were set ablaze and turned around to face his attacker.

Our gazes met for a brief moment.

He seemed shock at first… then his face, already distorted by his condition, contorted in fury.

"Come to finish what you started, have you?" He bellowed, his voice dripping with venom. Honestly, I didn't think he'd remember me. "Oh, don't be so surprised; I remember everyone who ever crossed me!"

"Yes, of course." I replied in a bored tone which only infuriated him further.

"This time, things are going to be different!" Movarth grinned savagely, the long fangs showing in the corners of his mouth. "I'm different now; stronger than you'd ever imagine! If you think you and that _pathetic mortal_ will make it out of here alive, then you're _dead_ wrong!"

His self-absorbed speech made me wonder why he kept talking instead of attacking. Then it occurred to me to check on my companion.

I glanced at him just in time to see his Dremora get skewered by a volley of ice spikes. Despite the loss of his companion, Falion still put up a fight, blasting spell after spell at the advancing vampires. Even at the distance I could clearly see the signs of fatigue. He wouldn't last long at this rate… and I'd prefer not having to explain how was it possible that the court mage of Morthal died.

I glanced at my atronach that floated a short distance away, still lobbing fire at our enemies. "Go help him!" The creature nodded and engaged the vampires who were harassing the wizard.

Suddenly I found myself flying backwards, wincing in pain as my back hit the rock. A Telekinesis spell, strong enough to levitate and throw people around; I'd wonder where he got this powerful spell from but there was no time for that.

"This is the end for _both_ of you!" Movarth gloated as he approached readying his spells. "I learned from our last encounter; you don't stand a chance against me! I know your every trick!"

I smirked at him. "Oh really?" Just as he was about to strike me down I thrust my hands forward, releasing a gout of flames right into his face.

Our inherently arrogant nature had once again made my work easier.

As Movarth shrieked and clawed at his burned face, I called forth my special power… one that I'd use only when the situation demanded it.

I doubled over when a familiar pain shot throughout my body; it felt like my insides were actually melting. My skin began turning blood red… a lead up to the most drastic part of the transformation.

Limbs started elongating.

Muscle began growing at an unnatural rate.

Bones snapped and shifted, only to unite moments later.

A large hump grew on the back; its skin burst open and a pair of wings sprouted, splaying wide.

The end result was the form of a Vampire Lord; a grotesque mix of human and a gargoyle, gifted with unnatural powers and magics.

At some point, my face changed as well, taking on a more bat-like appearance and clothes slipped off of my body.

Once the transformation was complete, I raised my head and glared at Movarth. The former vampire hunter was stunned into silence by my beastly form.

"Recognize _this?_ " My voice was now unnaturally deep, with a growly undertone.

"This… this is impossible." Movarth whispered, his eyes widening in shock and fear.

It was time to end this.

I summoned a couple of gargoyles and sent them to take care of the remains of Movarth's coven. Then I attacked the leader.

He backtracked and lobbed ice spikes and lightning bolts at me with reckless abandon, trying to put as much distance between me and him as possible. It didn't help him in the end, though. Swiftly maneuvering in between the incoming spells, I grabbed him by the throat and tore him apart with my bare hands.

Movarth Piquine, a vampire hunter turned an actual vampire, was now nothing more than history.

Then I took out the few stragglers that were still alive.

A dead silence fell over the chamber filled with corpses of both vampires and their thrall. Whatever remained of Movarth was scattered all over the place.

Falion swayed unsteadily at his feet, thoroughly exhausted but very much alive. The wizard still had his spells at the ready, eyeing my form with unconcealed distrust.

The one remaining gargoyle stood at my side, waiting for my command.

"Movarth…" It sounded more like a statement rather than question.

"He's dead."

Falion seemed to relax at my answer, if only slightly. He took a few slow wary steps towards me. "So you're a… _pureblood vampire_ …"

"Is that a problem?" I growled. He was one of the few sensible humans I dealt with around her; it would be a real shame if he forced me to kill him.

The Redguard finally dispelled the magic in his palms. "I couldn't help it but wonder why that hostile attitude towards Molag Bal, the revered creator of your kind." He said with an unreadable expression. "I think I know why now."

Of course, Falion knew a lot about vampirism. It would only make sense that he'd know the story of Lamae Bal.

"I don't want your pity, Falion." The way I said it sounded colder than I intended. "We need to search this place for any sur-" I trailed off as I caught soft footsteps somewhere behind me. They sounded a lot softer than a mortal's…

I turned around. A moving cloud of shimmering air and a faint outline of a small figure confirmed my suspicion.

A single flap of my wings sent me forward fast enough to intercept the fugitive. I backhanded the vampire across her face before she could react. The blow broke her Invisibility cloak and knocked her to the ground. Then I turned her on her back with a kick to her side and placed my clawed foot on her neck. The vampire, a young girl with dark hair and clad in a rather skimpy dress, tried to wriggle out of the trap but to no avail.

Falion was at my side within a few seconds, spells at the ready. At the sight of the vampire, he froze in shock. "Alva?!"

 _So, this is Movarth's little helper…_ Alva the vampire seemed equally surprised. "Falion? But you're not a-"

"Thrall?" I cut in. "Is that what you were going to say?"

She glowered at me with intense hate. "You… You and your little helper ruined _everything!_ " She spat out. "The town could've been ours! We would've allowed you to stay, too-"

"Why?" I asked. "Vampire clans don't just take in strays."

Alva smirked. "Movarth would know better that to pass on a chance to get a _Daughter of Coldharbor_ on his side…" The smile quickly vanished from her bloodied lips. "But you took sides with those _pathetic mortals_ as the traitor to our kind you are!"

"Funny… Just a month ago, you were one of those pathetic mortals." Falion remarked.

Alva hissed at him. "I'll tear your throat out, sorcerer!"

"We're wasting time, Falion." I said to the wizard and increased the pressure on her neck. "Where's Hroggar? What did you do to him?"

Alva was quiet for a moment. Then her lips split in a vicious smile. "Oh, you mean Elsod's man? He was _so_ easy to seduce… Couldn't think of anyone, _anything_ other than me. I gave him the pleasure he wanted before Movarth took him as cattle…" She licked her lips. "What a shame, he'd make a fine plaything…"

I heard enough.

I grabbed Alva by her head and twisted.

Her body instantly went limb as all vertebrae in her neck were violently shattered. I dropped her unceremoniously on the ground; her head was turned all the way backwards at a _very wrong_ angle.

Falion turned away.

"We have to find Hroggar; he might still be alive!" I took off into the deeper reaches of the cave we hadn't explored yet. The wings on my back helped me get around faster.

It didn't change a thing about the fact that we were too late, though.

Elsod's husband lay on a bedroll in the sleeping area. He was naked save the loincloth, deathly pale and bearing multiple bite marks all over his body. His eyes were widened, as if in response to a great pain. All life was gone from his eyes. Falion knelt down to Hroggar and put his finger on his pale neck. Then he looked at me and shook his head.

"We're too late. He's gone… Nothing we can do."

My mind drifted to Hroggar's wife and their little girl, Helgi. As if losing home wasn't enough; now they lost their father and husband as well…

There was a familiar surge of pain and within a few seconds my body reverted back into its humanoid form.

I was aware that during the transformation I lost my clothes… and that I was standing stark naked before another man. It didn't bother me, though; just a minor inconvenience I had to learn to live with.

The wizard cleared his throat. "Um, you may have not noticed but-"

"No clothes; yes I know." I interrupted him. "What? Never seen a naked female before?"

"What? O-of course I did!" The wizard sputtered. "I've just never seen a woman be so _casual_ about it!"

"When you get to be as old as I am you tend to stop worrying about minor trifles such as _this._ " I smiled thinly and walked back to the throne chamber. "You're free to scavenge whatever you want from this place. I need to find my clothes."

* * *

The trek back to Morthal went in a tense silence. There wasn't much of a reason to celebrate. We might've killed a dangerous Master vampire that planned on enslaving the town but it didn't go without a price. All our effort didn't stop Alva from seducing a man, taking him away from his family and leading him to his death.

Neither of us was looking forward to reporting this to the Jarl.

At the edge of the town we met up with a couple guardsmen. Falion briefly explained the situation to them, including Hroggar's death, and told them they were free to scavenge the place if they wanted to. As for me, I had enough coin though most of it was in the knapsack the local authorities confiscated.

I noticed the guards regarded us with only thinly veiled suspicion. Seemed that they trust neither of us… Nevertheless, they let us pass and head to the Highmoon hall to report to the Jarl. Inside, we were told that Jarl Idgrod was resting and that we were to wait until daylight.

Well, as long as they'd let me stay indoors it was fine by me; even vampires need to rest once in a while.

A few hours later, Falion and I stood before Idgrod and steward Aslfur and described the fight in Movarth's hideout, doing our best not to leave out anything important and not to go into too much detail.

Idgrod was visibly relieved to hear that Movarth Piquine was dead. I hated having to spoil that by saying that Hroggar was found dead, that vampires drained him dry before we could save him. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the steward giving me an odd look. No doubt he thought I had a hand in Hroggar's death. Honestly, I didn't care in the slightest what the man thought.

"While Hroggar's passing is a tragedy, we can at least comfort in the fact that we're safe from the vampire threat… _for now_ at the very least." The Jarl squawked. "Though, there is still one matter we should discuss…"

"By that, you mean that vampire we have in the dungeons?" Falion asked carefully.

"Exactly." Aslfur concurred. "The guards told me she's been unusually docile so far but that doesn't change the facts. She's too dangerous to keep around here; if she got out, who knows what she'd do."

He was right about that. I'd given it a bit of thought lately and I had an idea of what to do with her.

"If I may, I have a suggestion."

"Let's hear it." The steward said in an almost disinterested tone.

"Let me take Laelette with me."

Suddenly, every pair of eyes in the hall was on me.

"Why on Nirn would you want to do that?" Idgrod questioned.

"To put it in short terms, vampirism affects both body and mind. However, while the disease transforms the body within days, it takes more time for it to poison the mind as well. At that point, the victim stops thinking like a mortal, losing all memories from their mortal life, and adopts the mindset of your stereotypical bloodthirsty vampire." I explained. "After centuries of experience with my 'condition', I'm fairly sure I can keep Laelette from going down the same path, if given the chance."

There was a long moment of silence as Idgrod contemplated my request.

"My lady, you're not seriously considering that, are you?" Aslfur frowned.

"She's proven herself enough, Aslfur." The Jarl replied. "I understand your concerns but, as you said, Laelette cannot be allowed to stay here." Then she turned back to me. "Are you sure you can keep the girl from becoming like Movarth and the likes of him?"

I nodded. "Yes, I'm sure."

"Then I see no harm in doing so. Though you'll probably need to convince her yourself." Idgrod said and stood up from her throne. "But before we take our business to the guardhouse, there is one more thing to take care of. You and Falion saved my town and its people from a dangerous vampire plot; I think that warrants a reward."

And a reward it was… About five hundred Septims for each of us.

Let's just say that any person that refused such money would be out of their minds. Falion was surprised to receive such amount of money since he was a member of the Jarl's court but accepted the money nonetheless. Then Aslfur approached and handed me my knapsack, not bothering to hide his sour expression.

After the formalities were dealt with, we headed straight to the guardhouse.

* * *

Laelette was right where she was when we last saw her; lying on her side on the straw-covered floor of her cage, thick chains wrapped around her limbs restricting her movements. It looked like she hasn't moved an inch since we left the guardhouse to go after Movarth. Two guards were stationed in the room to watch over her in case she tried breaking out, though in hindsight it wasn't really necessary.

She didn't seem to be coping well with her fate… which wasn't good at all. Despair only made it easier for the vampiric instinct to take over her mind and turn her into a feared creature of the night. If anything, it made me surer about my decision to take the girl under my wing. She was caught in Movarth's scheme by accident and she deserved a better fate than becoming a mere slave to Molag Bal's whims.

The guardsmen sprung into attention as the four of us entered the cramped room; me, Jarl Idgrod, the steward and Falion.

"What can we do for you, my Jarl?" One of them barked out. The other one eyed me suspiciously; I suppose I shouldn't have expected anything else.

Laelette showed absolutely no reaction.

"As you were, gentlemen." Idgrod said. "Were there any incidents I should know about?"

"No, my Jarl." The man paused when the other guard shot him a dirty look and began again. "Well, nothing that would require your immediate attention, I meant to say."

"So something _did_ happen." Aslfur stated flatly.

"Thonnir came storming down here." The other guard answered. "He demanded to see his, um, _wife;_ didn't take 'no' for an answer. He tried talking to that girl but she just ignored him; she's just been lying like this ever since those two," He gestured at me and Falion. "left to take out the vampire lair. Thonnir then just up and left without a word."

"I see." The Jarl intoned.

"I don't claim to know what in Oblivion that was about but the vampire just doesn't do anything… like if it's content to just die in that cage." The first guard pointed out. "What should we do? It's not like Thonnir cares what happens to her anymore."

"Our mutual 'friend' here," Aslfur spat out the word like if it burned his tongue. "offered to take her away from Morthal… Something about 'teaching her to rein in her urges'."

It seemed to greatly surprise the guardsmen. "That sounds incredibly dangerous." One of them muttered.

The steward heaved a sigh. "Trust me, I don't like it either. But she saved this town and, as much as I loathe admitting it, she deserves the benefit of a doubt." _At least he was honest…_

"Open the cage." I said. "Let me talk to her."

They stared at me for a moment, hesitant to do anything. "Fine," The less talkative of the guards finally said. "But if she tries something, you'll be cleaning up the mess."

"Duly noted." I waited for him to open the cage and then I stepped inside.

Laelette didn't move a muscle; it looked like if she was sleeping. I knew better, though. "Drop the act, Laelette. I know you're awake."

"Go away…" Came a small voice, hoarse from crying.

"I know you heard the entire conversation." I continued. "Why did you refuse your man?"

This seemed to provoke a reaction.

The young vampire lifted her head and glared at me. "Idiot… You think he'd accept me if he saw me like this?!"

"You'll never know for sure if you don't even give him a chance!"

"And why do you care, anyway? I'm a monster… It's just a matter of time before I start murdering people…"

Out of the corner of my eye I saw the Jarl and the others shaking their heads.

"So you're giving up, just like that?"

This time, she didn't even dignify me with a response. It didn't stop me from continuing, though.

"You know why I came here. I can teach you to gain control over your hunger. You don't have to become one of the monsters from the horror stories; it's not too late for you. But ask yourself: do I really want to squander this chance by lying here and feeling sorry for myself?"

"… And what makes you so sure that I'm not a hopeless case?" The girl mumbled almost inaudibly.

"I know more about my condition than most scholars. We wouldn't be having this conversation if I didn't think you'd be worth the effort." I told her. "You can either go with me or stay here and see yourself slip into madness; it's your choice."

Laelette chuckled humorlessly. "There's not much to think about when you put it that way, is there?" Grunting with effort, she managed to sit up. "If you think you can help… I'll go."

"Then it's decided." Idgrod stated with an almost imperceptible smile. "Please, take off the restrains." The guardsmen didn't question her order but I could tell they were apprehensive about freeing a potentially dangerous creature.

It took a while to put all those chains down; the guards went out of their way to make sure Laelette wouldn't escape. When the last shackle fell down with a loud clank, Laelette finally stood up, stretching her stiff limbs.

I pulled two vials out of my knapsack; one contained a transparent yellowish liquid and the other was deep red. I handed both of them to Laelette. "The red one is a blood potion; you're less likely to go out of control when you're sated." I explained when she gave me a puzzled look. "The yellow one protects against sunlight; I suggest you drink it right before we step out into the open."

"Wait, we're travelling at day?" The younger vampire looked horrified by the prospect.

"I don't think staying here until dusk is an option." I replied sardonically.

"Good point." Laelette quickly gulped down the blood potion and dropped the empty vial, licking her lips. I could literally hear everyone inching away from her.

"So, I think our business is concluded, my Jarl." I said to Idgrod. "The two of us will be going now; we don't want to, ahem, _overstay our welcome._ "

"Nonsense!" The elderly Jarl waved her hand dismissively. "Morthal owes you a great deal…" She trailed off. "Now that I think of it, I don't think you ever told us your name."

"And I'd prefer it to stay that way, no offense." I replied. "Years on the road taught me that throwing your name around carelessly might bring unnecessary risks. If anyone asks, tell them that a mysterious traveler decided to help out and leave it at that."

"Very well then, _mysterious traveler._ " Idgrod chuckled. "Safe travels to both of you and if we meet again in the future, may it be under better circumstances."

Laelette only nodded mutely, her gaze fixed on the floor beneath her.

"Peace be upon you and your people, Idgrod of Morthal."

With that I walked to the door, Laelette following a few paces behind. In the door I took a last backward look before ascending the stairs.

We paused once more at the guardhouse's front door. "Don't forget to take that potion I gave you, Laelette."

The other vampire nodded and uncorked the vial. "Where are we going?"

"Until you learn to rain in your vampiric instincts we can't go anywhere near the city." I explained as she drank the contents of the vial. "So we'll be spending some time in the wilds." Laelette accepted my response without a word.

 _Hmm… I think I saw an abandoned fort west of here. Might be a good place to start…_

I opened the door and the two of us stepped out into the daylight.

* * *

Author's note: _So, this one's finally done... We'll leave Saliyah and her new companion be for a while and focus on other characters for a change.  
_

 _I planned to upload the chapter no. 6 way earlier but there was a slight, um, complication. I don't know what happened or what I did but the original content of chapter six was_ all gone, _just like that. The backup I managed to find only had the very first page of the text so I had to write it again (mostly) from scratch, hence why it got so delayed. I'm still not sure what went wrong but I apologize for that and I'll be more careful next time._ _  
_

 _As always, thanks for reading, review, favorite or follow; compliments and/or critique always welcome :-)_


	7. VII) Secrets of the barrow

Chapter 7 – Secrets of the barrow

 _Elaith_

 _Morning of 19_ _th_ _Last Seed; Falkreath_

Today's morning was cold and crisp which was something I'd already gotten used to after several years spent at the College of Winterhold. The valley around Falkreath was filled with thick fog that made it nigh impossible to see anything beyond a hundred feet. Not to mention that clothes would soon get wet which only added to the cold. The locals seemed used to it, though and even twenty five years after retiring from military I haven't gone so soft that I couldn't cope with bad weather.

I woke up early that day; earlier than I'd like, in fact. The evening we arrived to Falkreath after the Helgen disaster I was moved to the guardhouse. I'd hazard a guess that Jarl Siddgeir wasn't comfortable with a bunch of strangers taking up space in his residence. In all honesty, I didn't mind it one bit. It was getting pretty tiresome to hear the snobbish young lad complaining about the most trivial stuff, like the lack of game in the woods or Black-Briar mead in his residence.

Yes, that's right; not a single ounce of concern about the hold and its people. A few certain individuals whose names shall remain undisclosed told me that it was really Siddgeir's steward Nenya who ruled the hold. She also served Falkreath's previous Jarl and Siddgeir's uncle, Dengeir of Stuhn. Recently, Dengeir was forced to step down due to his failing health and was promptly succeeded by his nephew. Of course, that's what the official story says. There was a story going around the town that Dengeir was a Stormcloak sympathizer and thus was replaced by someone more forthcoming towards the Empire.

Anyway, in the last two days I couldn't get much sleep due to my injuries from Helgen. With the priestess' help I healed up enough to be able to walk so I made a short trip around the town shortly before dawn. Aside from the guardsmen, nobody was in the streets at such early hour. I was fine with that; that way nobody would bother me whether due to my race or my allegiance.

Frankly, Falkreath didn't leave much of an impression on me. First off, I'd expect more from a hold capital. Secondly, the atmosphere around the town was gloomy and dark which really put me off. The presence of the large cemetery on the outskirts didn't help in any way.

And with a ruler like Siddgeir, things would most likely get worse around here.

Just yesterday, we were joined by some more survivors from Helgen and we were scheduled to leave for Solitude at high noon. My injuries wouldn't present a problem because according to the healer I was well enough to travel. Good enough for me; the sooner I get out of this dreary place the better.

I was walking to the eastern end of the town when I heard a raspy unpleasant voice on my left.

"Look at this… Like if there weren't enough of your kind around here…"

I was greeted by a sight of an old bald man with a grey beard and clad in some set of expensive looking clothes, staring at me with undisguised contempt.

Oh perfect, it's one of these stereotypical xenophobic Nords. I had to wonder if this particular one hated just Mer or every 'outlander'.

"Is there a problem?" I asked carefully.

"Oh what _isn't_ a problem!" The old man seethed. "You witch-elves from Summerset Isles are the reason for everything that is wrong with our land! First you take away our God, then you invade our land under the guise of 'keeping peace' because the Emperor is too much of a spineless coward to say 'no'! You walk across our home unchecked, killing and kidnapping whoever you want! And nobody asks us if we agree with that; they just expect us to tolerate it!"

His voice carried through the chilly air as he ranted. The shouting already gained the attention of a nearby guardsman.

"Is something wrong, Thane Dengeir?" The man asked, his voice muffled by the helmet.

I barely resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Of all people around here I had to run into a sympathizer of Stormcloaks, the rebels that hate pretty much everything that isn't a Nord.

"Move along soldier!" Thane, and also the former Jarl, Dengeir barked out. "This isn't your business."

The guard shrugged and went back to patrolling.

As soon as he turned away from us, the Thane tore into me again. "And as if it weren't enough that you have those damnable Thalmor spying for you everywhere, you decide to plant your agents into the ranks of the Imperial Legion!"

It seemed that he noticed the Imperial insignias on my robes. I am able to pass over many insults but this was something I wasn't about to ignore…

"With all due respect, Thane, I've been donning this uniform for _far longer_ than you've been alive." I snapped back. "Even before the war with the Dominion broke out. I know where my loyalties lie and I'm not about to change them, _unlike some._ " I accentuated the last words by narrowing my eyes at the old man before me. "So please _do_ refrain from provoking me."

I could've dropped my reputation of the 'Wraith of Bravil' but I was convinced that most people in Falkreath knew that already; people just love a good gossip. I was sure Dengeir knew too who I am and just wanted someone to vent his frustration on. It seemed that my last remark shut him up, however.

 _Good._ I wasn't in the mood to argue with anyone.

I turned on my heels and marched back into the guardhouse, hoping to find something to distract myself with. It was approximately five or six hours until Tullius and the remnants of his unit left this miserable place… and I couldn't wait to get out of here.

* * *

Needless to say, the waiting was almost unbearable.

I always preferred to get things done sooner rather than later. Delays were only a waste of time. But now the waiting was far more unbearable than usual. There was nothing to do in this gods-forsaken town. The show of hostility early in the morning kept me from going out to explore the place. And the few Legionnaires that survived Helgen weren't much of conversation partners. After the tragedy of the aforementioned town, the mood plummeted below the freezing point. Plus, my reputation seemed to precede me and the soldiers were afraid to even look at me, much less speak to me.

All in all, it was a torment.

Now imagine my relief when general Tullius entered the guardhouse and announced that we'd be setting out two hours earlier.

"We've wasted enough time staying here." The general announced. "The destruction of Helgen and the return of 'dragons' is grave news and Jarl Elisif of Solitude needs to know what happened as soon as possible. There are precautions to be made in case the beasts decide to take on one of the major cities. Beside that, I have the impression that the locals aren't too fond of our presence here."

I had a sneaking suspicion that the man knew of my 'altercation' with Thane Dengeir.

"Are you healed up enough to travel, Legate?" Tullius addressed me.

I gave a curt nod. "Yes. Your healer told me so."

"Very good. There is but a handful of us, about twelve survivors including the _two of us_. We have only three steeds at our disposal so the rest of you will need to share the one wagon we have left."

"It's no problem, general." I assured him. Back in the Legion, I was used to travelling on foot, even as a Legate. "When do we leave?"

"You all have a half an hour to prepare for the journey." The general replied. "The road we'll be travelling on is known for being a target of numerous bandit groups. Now, those scum should know better than to attack Imperial soldiers but I still advise you to be ready for combat."

He was met with affirmative nods.

I was relieved that we'd finally leave this town. The sooner we finish our business in Solitude, the sooner I could return back to the College. Two days ago I sent a letter to the Archmage, informing him of my delayed return and the events at Helgen. I assumed that Aren would want more detailed information from me.

There was a lot of work to be done; the return of the dragons would affect every one of us.

* * *

 _Farlas_

 _Late afternoon of 19_ _th_ _Last Seed; somewhere in Whiterun hold_

At first I thought our trip to the Bleak Falls Barrow would be a simple fetching quest; get in, get the tablet and then get out. True, the court wizard in Whiterun warned us about traps and the Draugar, the undead Nordic guardians, but I still hoped that we wouldn't have much trouble with our mission.

Well, it wasn't that long before I was proven wrong in that regard.

After our audience with Jarl Balgruuf, we headed to the Bannered Mare Inn to stay overnight. It was a pretty nice and cozy place; maybe not as finely furnished as the inns down in Cyrodiil but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. The food was great, the drinks even better and the beds comfortable and we didn't even spend that much coin for all that. One drawback, if one could call it that, was that our room, the only available one at the time, only had one double bed.

There was a funny story about that, actually.

Honestly, I was mortified that I'd have to share a bed with someone I only met a few days ago. But strangely, Falaere didn't appear bothered by that though it didn't stop her from threatening to cut my family jewels off in case I tried anything she wouldn't like. As if I'd think about it… I mean, I saw her fight and I can say that she's a force to be reckoned with, indeed.

Then again you wouldn't expect anything less from someone who travelled across Tamriel for years.

Anyway, we set out early the next day, only stopping at the local apothecary, Arcadia's Cauldron, for some potions. After that we headed straight to Riverwood.

We thought that maybe we could hire a carriage to our destination, just to save some time. No such luck, however; it turns out that carriages only travel in between the capitals of Skyrim's nine holds. So in the end we were forced to travel to Riverwood on foot, losing about four hour of time in the process.

After arriving to the village, we could see that Jarl Balgruuf kept his word. There was a small detachment of Whiterun soldiers patrolling around the place; they wouldn't stand a chance against a dragon of course but at least they could distract the beast long enough for the villagers to escape. Yeah, it was a pretty morbid line of thinking but those men knew what they were in for.

I asked one of the guards for directions to the Bleak Falls Barrow. The man was plenty surprised by my request.

"Aye, it's on the hill overlookin' the village; you'll have ta cross the bridge an' take the road up the hill. Though I don' know what you want with that cursed place. It's crawlin' with bandits, skeevers, giant spiders and Shor knows what else…"

"Worry not, we know what we're doing." I assured him. Though secretly, I wasn't really sure about it either.

So we took the road to the old barrow, leading up the hill. The higher we got the colder the air became. I may have Nordic blood after my father but it didn't completely save me from the discomfort. As for Falaere, the Wood Elf already trembled with cold and we were only halfway up the mountain.

A while later we made it to an old crumbling tower where a bunch of bandits set up a watch... And of course they attacked as soon as they noticed us approaching.

Well, they looked far more threatening than they actually were, that's for sure. Their fighting skills were worth dog shit, to be honest. Their fighting skills only focused on brute strength and tough looks; no training, no finesse, _nothing._ The battle was over pretty quickly, especially with an excellent archer at my side. Afterwards we took a while to loot the hideout of all valuables (it's not a crime to steal from criminals, okay?) before continuing to the barrow.

As our miserable luck would have it, the weather only continued to get worse. It was a light snowfall, at first… which turned soon into a full blown blizzard with strong wind threatening to throw us off the path and down the mountain's rocky slope. I couldn't even see further than several paces ahead of me, not to mention that if it was cold before, now it was downright _freezing._ Not even the animal pelts we collected back at the bandit tower did much to keep us warm. And if I was freezing then Falaere was doing even worse; her teeth were chattering louder than the wind blowing around us.

We kept stumbling forward through the intense snowstorm, freezing and almost blind, for Gods kno how long until the outlines of ancient ruins finally came into our view. It was about time too because my limbs were already growing numb from the cold.

At the first glance, the entrance to the Bleak Falls Barrow looked remarkably well preserved. Several enormous arches, made of ornamented blocks of stone, curved high above the stairs leading to the front gate. This barrow was thousands of years old; the old Nordic must've been very capable builders if all this hadn't fallen apart yet. Of course, it could've been entirely different inside…

Unfortunately, before entering the barrow we had to take care of another group of bandits that guarded the ruins. Shaking with cold, I sure wasn't looking forward to yet another fight… but at least our enemies would be equally miserable, if anything.

Falaere found out that with the way her hands shook she couldn't aim properly with her bow so we had to get rid of the brigands the hard way: up-close and personal. On the other hand, she could still cast spells which made our job easier.

In a short but brutal fight we disposed of the bandits and after looting their bodies we slipped inside the crypt.

The interior was in worse shape than I thought. The ceiling had collapsed in some places, allowing the daylight to pour inside. There was toppled stonework scattered all over the entrance hall. We saw corpses of a couple bandits, clad in improvised armor of fur and hide, and _a lot_ of dead skeevers. It made me think why those guys would go through all this trouble just to get inside a long forgotten old crypt. They didn't seem like 'professional' treasure hunters. While these old barrows might hold a great deal of riches, it wasn't worth all the risks, at least for those who had no experience with these places.

I spotted a warm yellowish glow coming from ahead; Falaere and I crept forward to investigate.

Sure enough, a couple of bandits, a man and a woman, sat at the campfire. Those two were engrossed in a conversation and never noticed our presence. My first thought was to take them by surprise and cut them down before they could react but my Wood Elf companion held me in place, gesturing me to listen.

"I dunno why they told us to wait here." The woman grumbled.

"To keep other treasure hunters from going in, of course." The man scoffed.

"We have men waiting outside; that's enough to keep any intruders away! I don't want to sit here while Arvel runs off with that golden claw."

A 'golden claw'? That sounded intriguing… I kept listening, hoping they wouldn't spot us.

"If the Dark Elf wants to run ahead, then let him. Better _that_ than us risking our necks."

"What if he doesn't come back? I want my share of that claw; I didn't go through all this mess just to leave empty handed!"

"If he double crosses us, we'll get rid of him. Now shut it and keep watch; don't want any-"

The man was interrupted by an arrow that pierced his throat; he went to the floor choking on his own blood.

Falaere put her bow away and hissed "Now!"

The other bandit was visibly panicking, torn between helping her wounded partner and searching for the intruder. She didn't put up much of a fight when I locked blades with her; soon she lay dead on the cold stone beside her companion. We took a moment to relieve the corpses of their valuables and then we continued deeper into the barrow.

The hallways of the millennia old crypt were reminiscent of a maze. As we pushed on, I could clearly see how dilapidated the interior became over the years. Many corridors were blocked by toppled stonework as the ceiling collapsed and there were roots growing everywhere, bursting out of walls and the ceiling. At least the burning fires were placed along the way, lighting up the underground corridors so we didn't have to stumble around in dark; most likely the courtesy of this Arvel character and his friends.

Eventually we arrived into a strange hall, as damaged as everything else in this barrow. The only path leading forward was blocked by a metal grating. Then I noticed strange symbols carved into stone desks; two of them placed on the wall above the grating and one lay shattered on the floor in three large pieces. Another strange thing was a lever placed in the middle of the hall on a small circular platform. There was a corpse of a man clad in fur and hide lying nearby; most likely a bandit, judging by his clothes.

"I'm pretty sure this is a trap." Falaere said and pointed at the wall in front of us. "See those holes in the wall?" Now I noticed them too. "If I had to guess, they contain either spears or poisoned darts."

I knelt down to inspect the bandit's corpse. True enough, there were small darts protruding from several places on his body. "So, how do we get past this gate?"

Falaere hummed and glanced around the hall, looking for any clues. Her gaze fell on three-sided pillars on our left; there were three of them and they also looked movable. What really intrigued me was that the symbols on them looked _very_ similar to those on the wall above the grating. I glanced back at the wall.

Snake… snake, again… and some kind of fish?

Each pillar bore the symbols of snake, fish and a bird, presumably a hawk.

"This can't be that easy…" I muttered to myself.

Falaere understood what I was getting at. "We'll need to try, otherwise we'll never get past that grating." She said. "Position those pillars into the combination on the wall. I'll pull the lever when you're done."

Of course she'd pick the easier job… though on the other hand, she might get killed if I got it wrong. I moved the pillars to get the hopefully correct combination; it wasn't easy moving them but it was a small miracle that they weren't stuck given how old this place was.

Much to our luck, I got it right. Once Falaere pulled the lever, the grating rose up and cleared the path.

I still couldn't believe the puzzle was that easy to solve. Yet the poor sap couldn't solve it… well, brigands weren't known for being intelligent, I guess.

Our path led us down a spiral staircase and a nest of skeevers which we dealt with quickly.

The lower level seemed in even worse condition than what we saw so far. And, to my utter horror, the walls were covered in big spider webs.

 _Ugh, spiders…_ I hated those things with every fiber of my being. Fighting them at the caves under Helgen was enough of a scare and I really hoped I would never see those monsters again. I seem to have some rotten luck these days…

I nearly jumped in start when a panicked voice cut through the stale air, echoing throughout the quiet hallways.

"I-is that you? Harknir? Bjorn? S-Soling?! Look, I'm sorry I ran off with the claw but I need help!... Guys, seriously, I'm trapped! Get me out of here!"

Falaere and I glanced at each other. "Arvel." We said at the same time.

Time to get some answers….

We followed the unlucky man's voice and arrived into a chamber that was almost entirely wrapped in thick spider webs. I saw cocoons filled with spider eggs all over the place. Arvel, our damsel in distress was hanging trapped in the webbing blocking the passage deeper into the crypt. The Dark Elf was thrashing around, trying to get out of the web restraining him. His red eyes suddenly widened and he doubled his useless efforts, just as a slithering sound came from above.

I looked up… and I instantly wished I didn't.

There was a _huge-ass_ spider descending from a hole in the ceiling on a thick silky thread. It was as big as a damn horse, and it was going to make a meal out of us.

At mere sight of it I just froze up. I couldn't move, I could barely think. It was as if my body grew a mind of its own and refused to obey my commands. It wasn't until Falaere hit me with some spell that I could finally move and draw my sword.

The battle with the overgrown spider was long and grueling. The beast, already wounded, tried its hardest to take us down, snapping with its teeth, clawing and spitting venom at us. It was made worse by the fact that we had to keep the monster away from Arvel who wouldn't stop screaming hysterically at the top of his lungs. Honestly, I was tempted to let the damn thing eat him.

Anyway, the giant spider looked powerful and menacing but, as we found out later, it was vulnerable to fire and Falaere was quick to capitalize on that. After minutes of furious battle and several close calls the spider lay dead and mutilated at our feet. We weren't sure how much it would take to kill the beast so we kept slashing and stabbing until it stopped moving.

Then it was time to deal with Arvel.

The Dark Elf wasn't as grateful as we expected and demanded us to cut him down before something else showed up. He became pretty tame when Falaere confronted him about the claw, though. He began rambling about some kind of power hidden deep within the crypt and that the claw was actually some kind of key. And he claimed to know how to get inside, insisting he'd show up if we freed him.

I didn't believe him for a moment; this guy didn't hesitate to screw his friends over just for the prospect of an extra profit. Alas, it wasn't like we had much of a choice; we needed to get to the barrow's burial chamber and this little thief was our only chance at getting inside.

So we cut freed him out of the webs.

Of course, the little bastard wasn't planning to keep his word. As soon as we cut him out of the webbing, he fired a gout of flames right in our faces. Caught off guard by his trickery, we couldn't keep him from running away, deeper into the tomb.

"Idiots! Why should I share the treasure with anyone?!"

Falaere drew her dagger and bolted after the Dark Elf. "Get back here, you little shit!" Needless to say, she was royally pissed. I joined the pursuit, eager to show Arvel the error of his ways.

I don't know how it was possible but the rat was faster, way faster than us, and we lost him soon. That was bad; in these old crypts, there were many places to hide. We slowed down to a trot, knowing too well we wouldn't catch Arvel.

"Damn it." Falaere gasped for breath. "We should have killed him… like the rest of those bandits."

"He can't run from us forever," I replied. "Judging by the looks of him, he doesn't know much about Nordic crypts either; with some luck, he'll blunder into some traps or-"

I was suddenly cut off by a bloodcurdling scream filled with terror, followed by a series of dull thuds. I unsheathed my sword, just in case.

"That didn't sound good." The Wood Elf muttered. "You think it was something worse than traps?"

"What? You mean like-" I trailed off as we rounded a corner and entered a hall full of dead mummified bodies.

It was the burial chamber.

The alcoves in the walls were filled with embalmed corpses; many of them still possessed their weapons and armor. Embalming instruments and pieces of linen were scattered everywhere. The burning torches placed at the walls gave the place a strange, almost eerie feeling.

In the dead silence, I could make out strange sounds… almost like shuffling feet.

Ignoring the dead Nords, we pressed on, rounding another corner-

-and came to a dead stop at the sight of Arvel's mutilated corpse and three grotesque creatures wielding weapons.

They looked like humans… yet they weren't, not anymore. Bony body clad in half-rotten armor, ash-gray skin, gaunt face with bared teeth, eerily glowing eyes; in appearance they were very similar to the dessicated corpses we saw earlier... Except these weren't quite as dead.

My mind went back to the conversation with Farengar yesterday and I knew what those horrifying things were.

 _Draugar._

All three former humans were staring at us, growling something in a language I never heard before.

" _Dir Volaanne!"_

The next thing I know, we're fighting for our lives.

I never thought I'd say it but those horrors were more difficult opponents than most brigands I fought. They might not look the part but the undead warriors were very resilient, not to mention that they were stronger than I expected. Aside from that, they didn't seem even capable of feeling pain. The draugar would simply keep coming at us until we killed them _for good_ … or at least we hoped so; I didn't have the faintest idea what mysterious power kept those things 'alive'. On the other hand, though, their dried out bodies caught on fire very easily and Falaere was very quick to exploit that weakness.

Somehow we made it through the battle with no serious injuries. I didn't feel any relief, however. In this old crypt, there were bound to be more Draugar and we'd have to fight our way through them.

At least now I didn't have to feel much guilty about robbing the dead since they tried to kill us anyway.

Falaere knelt down beside Arvel's corpse and began rifling through his pockets. Few moments later she pulled out a tattered leather bound journal and a large golden ornament shaped like a dragon's claw.

"He could've easily sold that claw for; some people out there would pay ungodly money for trinkets like these." I mused aloud. "Why would he take it inside a crypt of all places?"

"You heard him; he was pretty convinced there is some treasure in here." Falaere answered and opened the journal. "Maybe this will give us some answers." She continued flipping through the worn pages until she stopped at one of the most recent entries. _"My fingers are trembling. The Golden Claw is finally in my hands, and with it, the power of the ancient Nordic heroes. That fool Lucan Valerius had no idea that his favorite store decoration was actually the key to Bleak Falls Barrow. Now I just need to get to the Hall of Stories and unlock the door. The legend says there is a test that the Nords put in place to keep the unworthy away, but that 'when you have the golden claw, the solution is in the palm of your hands'."_ She grimaced in bewilderment as she finished reading. "'Power of the ancient Nord heroes', huh? I thought he just wanted to loot this place."

"Who cares what that thief wanted?" I scoffed. "All we need is that 'Dragonstone' and we won't get to it without that claw."

Falaere nodded, handing me the ornament and the journal. "We'd best get to it, then. I don't want to stay here any longer than necessary."

And so the two of us made our way through the underground hallways of Bleak Falls Barrow, fighting hordes of undead and taking anything of value we happened across.

There wasn't a single hall where the Draugar wouldn't gang up on us. Though we did already know about their strengths and weaknesses, it didn't make them any less bothersome. It was a small miracle that neither of us got seriously injured during the fight. Another thing was I eventually got used to their horrendous appearance and I could look at them without feeling an urge to puke. The traps only got more creative as we continued further; swinging axes placed in narrow corridors, pressure plates that would set off poisoned darts or swinging spiked wall; just another reason to be careful.

It came as a surprise when our path led us through a cave with a waterfall at some point. I mean, who knew that Old Nords would make use of natural formations while building those crypts? As we progressed through the crypt, the near constant fighting started to take its toll on us. At least once we had to take a break to rest for a bit and treat our wounds. Draugar may not be smart but that didn't make them any less dangerous.

The next few hours were filled with sneaking past traps, 'collecting' valuables and putting down any Draugr that got in our way. I was getting tired and it was a true relief when we finally made it into what Arvel the thief called 'the hall of stories' in his journal. It was essentially a long broad hall with ornate images carved into the walls on either side. It ended at a large door made of solid stone.

It was unlike anything we had seen in the barrow so far. First off, it looked like not even a giant could move it. It also had three large rings revolving round a common axis and a circular plaque with a claw-shaped engraving and three indents at the tip of the 'fingers'. Each ring showed a symbol carved out in a familiar style.

It sure looked like just another puzzle… only there were no clues around this time.

Falaere stared intently at the door. "Wait a moment…" She muttered suddenly. "Give me the claw."

I frowned. "It's no use without the correct combination."

"Arvel wrote 'when you have the golden claw, the solution is in the palm of your hands'." She explained. "I suspect it was meant _literally._ "

"And if not? The solution can't be that easy!"

The Wood Elf smirked. "That's what you said _the last time_." … and it was that easy back then; yes I remembered.

So I gave her the claw; I was pretty skeptical about her idea but it was the only thing we had. She took it and held it with its palm upwards. The Elf chuckled when she saw the symbols engraved into it. "Would you look at _that_ … bear, moth, owl."

 _I can't believe this…_ I began aligning the rings on the door into the correct combination. When I was done she took the claw and fit it into the holes on the door's center, then she pushed it inside and turned left and then right. Suddenly, the rings turned on their own accord and aligned to one symbol and then the door slid down slowly into the floor.

Again, the Elf was right and I was wrong. "Why would the Nords make it so easy to break into their crypts? I don't understand…"

"I don't know… It made our task easier and that's all I care about." Falaere replied. "Let's get the tablet so we can get out of here."

I couldn't argue with that; honestly, this place was creeping me out.

The main chamber was just several paces beyond the Hall of Stories. It actually turned out to be a huge cavern with a brook flowing along the sides. A stony path led across a small bridge to a large decorated sarcophagus placed on an elevated platform in the middle of the cavern, illuminated by daylight coming through a hole in the ceiling. Right behind it, there was a massive wall adorned with ornate carvings, bearing some strange engravings I never saw before; they looked like a series of vertical, diagonal and horizontal lines and dots, seemingly without any meaning to them.

With an exception of a few bats, the whole place was empty; it was a pleasant change against corridors and halls infested by walking corpses.

I was relieved that our little fetching quest was almost over. The only thing left to do was to search the chamber for the Dragonstone and leave this wretched place. We decided to start with the central platform, as it was the most likely place where the tablet was hidden.

That's when strange things started happening… right as we ascended the stairs leading up to the altar-like wall.

I began hearing some disembodied voices chanting something in an unfamiliar language. The chanting only grew louder as we approached the wall.

Was I going crazy?

"Do you hear that, Falaere?"

The Wood Elf gave me a puzzled gaze. "Hear what?"

"… Nothing." _Oh boy, I really am going insane…_

Her crimson eyes stared at me with suspicion but she decided not to comment.

I glanced back at the wall… and my eyes widened at the strange, otherworldly sight.

Three glyphs engraved into the wall glowed with a pale blue light; a single word in the entire inscription. I remembered Arvel's words about some mysterious power that was supposedly hidden in here. Maybe the thief was right, after all…

Against my better judgment, I walked closer to the wall. The closer I got, the brighter the glyphs glowed… and everything around them seemed to recede into darkness. I was terrified, to be honest… but at the same time I couldn't help it but feel drawn to the wall.

Moments later, only a few feet separated me and the wall with the engravings. I don't know why I did it but I just reached out with my hand and touched the glowing glyphs. The moment my fingertips made contact with the cold stone I felt a wave of dizziness, followed by a warm feeling spreading throughout my body.

A single word stood out in my mind.

 _Fus._

I didn't even know what it meant… thought for some strange reason I felt like I _should_ know.

The next thing I know Falaere was at my side.

"What in Auri-El's name was _that_ about?" She questioned. "What happened?"

"I… I don't know." It wasn't all that far from the truth. I was reluctant to tell her about the chanting and the glowing glyphs because I knew she would hardly believe me. No one in their right mind would.

My companion didn't seem to take that for an answer. But whatever her reply was, it was cut off when the lid of the large sarcophagus behind us was blown off.

Startled by the sudden loud noise we spun around… just in time to see yet another Draugr climbing out. However this one was bigger and nastier than those we encountered earlier.

The bonewalker growled and drew its weapon the moment it noticed us. It was a large crude looking greatsword, pale blue ornaments glowing along its blade.

We unsheathed our own weapons and approached the undead warrior. I thought it was going to be an easy fight since there were two of us and only one Draugr. Alas, our adversary didn't plan on fighting fair. Instead of attacking, it opened its lipless mouth.

" _Fus Ro Dah!_ " A raspy roar tore out of its throat… along with a wave of mysterious blue energy that hit us with the force of a battering ram and literally blew us off our feet.

I cried out in pain as I flew into the wall; my ribs and my back were thoroughly rattled by the impact. And Falaere wasn't doing any better. The Draugr wasn't about to let us regain our bearings and attacked, its sword raised high above the head. Heavily concussed, Falaere couldn't do anything as the monster swung its blade down at her.

I wasn't about to stand back and watch, though.

Ignoring the pain in my back, I darted towards the Draugr and managed to intercept its blade with my own at the last moment. Its sword was knocked off its intended course, grazing Falaere's shoulder instead of outright killing her.

I swung at the bastard's head but he parried the attack with a surprising ease.

" _Bolog Aaz Mal Lir!"_

I had no idea what it said and frankly I didn't care.

The Draugr and I kept exchanging blows for several seconds. For a millennia old mummy it fought very well; if it weren't for the swordplay classes I attended years ago I would've been dead. I could keep it at bay but it didn't give me an opportunity to put it down.

Not until Falaere blasted it with a huge stream of fire.

The Draugr instantly decided that the Elf was the greater threat and ignored me. A moment later, I cut off its sword arm and then its head too.

"Finally." Falaere grunted, wincing in pain as she inspected the cut on her shoulder. "Go grab the damn tablet before any more of _those_ can show up."

I shook my head. "We need to treat your wound first."

"I can take care of myself, you know." Falaere gave a pained smile as a familiar yellow light appeared in her hand.

Of course, how foolish of me to assume I was the only one to know some Restoration magics.

The Dragonstone was hidden at the bottom of the sarcophagus. If it was any special, it certainly didn't look the part. I really hoped Jarl Balgruuf would pay us some decent money for all the trouble we went through to get this thing.

After Falaere healed herself, we searched the chamber for anything of value. We found some gems, gold, old jewels and a few enchanted items. The latter we could bring to the court wizard and sell the rest. Plus, tracking down this Lucan Valerius and bringing him the stolen claw could also fetch us some coin.

During our search I happened across a hidden exit from the chamber that led into a cave and then right into the woods near the lake above Riverwood. We had to scale down the rocks but it was a better option than backtracking all the way to the crypt's entrance.

By the time we finally got out of that dreadful place it was already getting dark. Neither of us wanted to travel at night so we decided to rent a room in the Sleeping Giant Inn back in Riverwood and travel to Whiterun the next day.

All the way to Riverwood I couldn't help it but think about our encounter with the big Draugr in the barrow's main chamber. Whatever it did when it shouted, the first word of its guttural roar was the same word I 'read' on the wall. Maybe it was just coincidence… or it was a part of something bigger I was yet to discover.

Don't know why but I found that possibility a bit disturbing.

No matter, I'd figure it out tomorrow, after delivering the damn tablet.

* * *

Author's note: _And we're back with Farlas the Imperial and his Wood Elf companion, and this time I didn't accidentaly delete stuff :-)_

 _Anyway, some of you might want to correct me about using the word 'Draugar' instead of 'Draugr'. Well, I do it for a reason: Draugar is just a plural form of Draugr; I didn't make this up, I just took my inspiration from the Elder Scrolls wiki page about Draugr; it's all there._

 _And before I forget, there are some translations from_ Dovahzul _(the language of dragons, or 'draconic', I guess) - If any of you are interested in learning the language, check out the webpage_ _, it's a really great help. It can make it much easier to translate from english to Dovahzul; plus the amount of effort put into explaining the grammar, pronunciation, alphabet and stuff is simply amazing. I really recommend you all to look it up, you won't be disappointed._

Dir Volaanne! _\- Die, intruders!_

Bolog Aaz, Mal Lir! _\- Beg (for) mercy, little worm!_

Fus Ro Dah! _\- Force-Balance-Push: pretty self-explanatory, I think :-)_

 _As always, thanks for reading, review, favorite or follow; compliments and/or critique always welcome :-)_


	8. VIII) Dragon rising

Chapter 8 – Dragon rising

 _Falaere_

 _20_ _th_ _of Last Seed, Whiterun_

After our eventful adventure in the Bleak Falls Barrow, we headed right back to Riverwood. Given what we went through in the last few hours of exploring the old Nordic crypt neither of us wanted to blunder around in the dark all the way back to Whiterun. The Dragonstone delivery could wait until the next day. We stayed the night at the Sleeping Giant Inn and the next day we set out to Whiterun, after wrapping up our business with one certain Lucan Valerius.

It turns out that Lucan, the owner of the small shop in Riverwood, was the one from whom Arvel stole the golden claw. He wanted to hire a few sell-swords to track the thief down; in the end, there was no need for that. When we presented the ornament to him, he nearly fainted… only to start giggling like a madman a few moments later. I never thought I'd see someone so happy about getting some trinket back. A part of me wondered how the Imperial would react if we told him that the claw was a key to an old crypt… He didn't need to know that, though.

Ecstatic about having his claw back, Lucan rewarded us handsomely: five hundred septims for each of us. For a moment I thought it might be more than we really deserved but I knew better than to complain. Lucan seemed to really care about that thing and he gave us that much money willingly so everything was fine.

Then we could be on our way to Whiterun.

Even though nothing happened, the journey was much less pleasant than the first time. It was thanks to the stone tablet we had to lug around. That thing seemed to weight at least twenty pounds and slowed us down considerably. It was well past noon when we finally made it to the city and at that point we were pretty damn tired.

At least no one tried to bar us from entering the city this time…

Right after passing through the main gate we were welcomed by an interesting sight. A dark skinned woman in a blacksmith apron was arguing with a blonde Nord clad in a set of Imperial armor.

"We'll pay double if you want, Adrianne. The Empire needs more steel for the Legion." The uniformed Nord said forcefully.

"Were you even listening? I can't fill up an order this big on my own, Idolaf!" The blacksmith objected heatedly. Honestly I didn't think a Nord would go so far to get arms and armor from a female blacksmith, and an Imperial, at that. "Why don't you swallow your damn pride and go ask Eorlund Gray-mane for help?"

"Ha! I'd rather bend my knee before Ulfric Stormcloak!" The man, identified as Idolaf, scoffed. "Besides, the old traitor wouldn't make steel for Imperial legion."

It seemed that we stumbled into some kind of local rivalry. I'd rather stay away from any local affairs if I could help it.

"Oh, fine." Adrianne the blacksmith relented, probably seeing that arguing with the man wouldn't get her anywhere. "I'll take the job, you stubborn oaf, but don't expect miracles."

"Pleasure doing business with you, Adrianne." Idolaf smirked victoriously and turned on his heels. He didn't notice the blacksmith giving him a rather rude gesture as he walked away.

"Well, that happened." Farlas muttered. "I wonder what that was about."

"I don't care for local squabbles." I said evenly. "Let's take the damn tablet to the court wizard."

"Yeah. I'll be glad to get rid of that thing." My Imperial companion groaned. "My back is killing me."

I could definitely believe that. I could only hope the reward would be worth all the hassle.

Fortunately, Farengar was present in his laboratory. He wasn't alone, though; he was talking to a rather short hooded woman in worn leather armor. I didn't see her face because of the hood. Their discussion seemed rather important so we waited until the two of them noticed us.

"You see?" Farengar spoke, leaning over some old, tattered scroll on the table. "The terminology is clearly First Era or even earlier. I'm convinced this is a copy of a much older text, perhaps dating to just after the Dragon War. If so, I can use this to cross-reference the names with other, later texts."

"Good; I'm glad you're making progress." His guest replied in a low voice. "My employers are anxious to get some tangible answers." Then she raised her head and looked towards the entrance. "You have visitors, by the way."

Surprised at first, Farengar calmed down when he recognized us. "Ah, you're back from the Bleak Falls Barrow; you didn't die, it seems?" He said with a chuckle.

"No, we didn't; no thanks to you." I snapped at him. I failed to see what was even remotely funny about our ordeal.

Farengar raised an eyebrow. "Is there a problem?"

"Well, to put it in plain terms, our expedition to Bleak Falls Barrow got pretty complicated." Farlas said sourly. "You didn't say anything about puzzle door, which needed a specific key to be opened. If a group of bandits just didn't happen to have previously stolen it, we would've never gotten inside!"

"But everything worked out in the end, didn't it?" Came the wizard's dismissive reply.

"A little warning could've been nice!" Farlas argued. "Aren't you supposed to know things like that?"

"I'm afraid you misunderstood." Farengar drawled. "I specialize in dragon lore, not architecture of ancient Nordic buildings."

Heaving an exasperated sigh, Farlas set his backpack on the ground and pulled the Dragonstone out. "Here's the tablet you were looking for; I hope you won't mind the scratches." He said evenly, slamming the tablet down on the table.

The hooded woman glanced at the stone tablet. "You went into the Bleak Falls Barrow and got that? Nice work." She said with appreciation.

 _At least someone can see that,_ I thought to myself.

"Very nice work, indeed." Farengar stated, casting a subtle glare at Farlas. "Now begins my part of the job, sadly underappreciated here in Skyrim. As for the reward, you should speak to the Jarl, or his steward, Avenicci."

With that, the court wizard began studying the tablet, clearly considering the conversation over. The only thing left to do was to meet up with either the Jarl or his steward and pick up our reward.

Just as we were about to leave the laboratory, Balgruuf's housecarl barged inside, looking slightly out of breath.

"Farengar! You need to come at once! A dragon's been sighted nearby!" Looking at us, the Dunmer added. "The two of you should come too."

It was at that moment when I understood our troubles were far from over.

Farengar instantly leapt up from the table, his work suddenly forgotten. "A dragon?! How exciting! What was it doing? How did-"

Jarl's housecarl frowned at the wizard's excited chattering. "I'd take that more seriously if I were you." She chided. "If it attacks the city, we don't know if we can stop it. Follow me; Jarl Balgruuf wants to speak to all of you."

Her voice left no space for arguing so we followed her up the nearby stairs to the palace's upper floor.

"What's this about the dragon?" Farlas questioned. "Where did they see it?"

"Western watchtower, about a mile from the city." The housecarl replied. "Far enough for the commoners to not notice it… yet _too_ close for our liking."

"But think of all the opportunities, Irileth!" Farengar exclaimed. "What we could learn!" The housecarl didn't bother responding.

As we made it up the stairs we saw Jarl Balgruuf himself questioning a single guardsman. The man's armor, bearing the colors and the city's symbol, seemed slightly singed.

"So you saw the dragon?" The Jarl pressed. "What can you tell me about it?"

"I, uh… It was big, m-my lord. And fast! Faster than anything I've ever seen!" The soldier stammered. "We saw it coming from the south; it came down breathing flames as soon as it saw us!"

"So it attacked the watchtower? How many losses?"

"I- I don't know, my lord! They told me to run and warn the city; the dragon was circling around when I left… I thought it would come after me for sure!"

"Can you tell us what it looked like?" Farlas suddenly asked.

"Uhh… it was about as big as the inn downtown and- and it had brown scales… that's all I remember!"

"It's not the same dragon we saw in Helgen." Farlas said with a frown. I thought the same myself; there was no way to tell what it meant for us. If the dragon at the watchtower was weaker than the one from Helgen, it changed nothing about the danger of our situation. Even if it was possible to kill it, the dragon could _easily_ do the same to us.

And if it was stronger than its Helgen counterpart… then Gods help us.

"Are you absolutely sure about that?" Balgruuf questioned.

"I'd never forget a creature that tried to kill me; believe me on that."

The Jarl heaved a sigh. "Very well, then." He said to the visibly shaken guard. "Go to the barracks and get some rest; you earned it." Then he turned to his housecarl. "Irileth, gather some guardsmen and get down there."

"I've already gathered some of my men at the main gate." Irileth answered.

"Good; don't fail me." The Jarl then turned to us. "I need you two to go with her and help her fight the dragon if it shows up." He said gravely. "I hate to ask more of you after your mission to Bleak Falls Barrow but we need all the help we can get. And since you survived Helgen, you have more experience with dragons than anyone else."

Well, the man might have a point… only we had more experience running from the damn thing than actually fighting it. But I knew the situation was too grave to simply refuse him.

As if reading my mind, Farlas said "We'll do what we can, my lord."

"I still haven't forgotten the service you did for my city." Balgruuf added. "I'll instruct Avenicci to take you to the armory and fit you with some enchanted arms or armor, to improve your chances against that dragon. We'll discuss the proper reward after this is over."

"If I may, my Jarl," Farengar interjected. "I think I should accompany them; I'd very much like to see that dragon."

The Jarl was resolutely against the idea, though. "No. I can't afford to risk both of you; I need you here working on ways to defend the city against these dragons."

The wizard seemed disappointed by the decision but didn't question it.

"One last thing;" Balgruuf said to the housecarl. "This isn't a death or glory mission, Irileth. I need to know what we're dealing with."

"Don't worry, my lord." Irileth said with an unreadable expression. "I am the very soul of caution."

The Jarl nodded. "Gods with you, then." He then looked at us once more. "You go tell Avenicci to fit you with some better equipment, on Jarl's orders. Pick whatever you need and then head to the main gate; Irileth and her men will be waiting for you. Be quick about it, though. The dragon could decide to attack the city at any moment; we can't afford to lose any time."

* * *

 _Farlas_

 _Afternoon of 20_ _th_ _of Last Seed; en route to western watchtower_

We met up with Irileth and about a dozen of soldiers at the main gate. It was pretty clear that the men weren't particularly looking forward to fighting the winged beast. _Who in their right mind would be…_ It took an inspirational speech from Balgruuf's housecarl for them to muster some courage, in spite of the rather bleak outlooks. At least they'd think about something other than death at the jaws of a dragon…

What followed afterwards was a jog to the western watchtower, about a mile away from the city.

It didn't escape me that other guardsmen were giving us all sorts of pitying looks; they probably knew that many of us wouldn't be coming back. Not _alive,_ at least. No wonder; we were going against a dragon; a _ploughing dragon_ of all things! I'm no coward but still I couldn't help it but think: _what in Oblivion am I doing?!_

I somehow escaped the dragon in Helgen… and now I was walking straight into the jaws of another.

There was the hope that the special items we picked up in the armory would be any help against that thing.

My iron armor was still holding up, even after all the hits I took from Draugar back in Bleak Falls Barrow. What I needed was a good shield and there just happened to be one enchanted with fire resistance effect in the armory. Even better, I found a sword that apparently sapped life force from its victims; however, Avenicci insisted that I return it after the dragon was dealt with… Whether it was confidence or ignorance speaking I had no idea. Falaere picked up a Legion-style bow enchanted with shock damage. With her aim, I was pretty sure she'd at least hurt the damn thing.

Still, I didn't like our chances one bit.

After a while we finally made it to the watchtower. The morale of our group suddenly took a nosedive when we saw what state the place was in.

It was a complete mess.

The tower itself was still standing but I clearly saw that the dragon sure did a number on it. Rubble was scattered all around and the ground was scorched by fire. At places the grass was still burning. The worst of it all were the mutilated and burned remains of guardsmen that got too close to the beast.

I struggled to keep the contents of my stomach down. A few of the soldiers started vomiting; at least I wasn't the only one disgusted by the sight.

"This is like Helgen all over again." Falaere whispered, horrified.

"We're so dead…" I heard one of the guardsmen mutter.

Irileth didn't seem to pay any mind to the shaky morale of her troops, though. "No sight of the dragon right now, but it sure looks like it's been here." She remarked as she looked around. "I know it looks bad, but we've got to figure out what happened, and if the dragon is still skulking around somewhere."

 _Didn't this tell you enough?_ I wanted to say. The Dark Elf seemed to have one-track mind.

"Spread out and look for the survivors – we need to know what we're dealing with."

I didn't think we'd find any; this place looked as dead as it could possibly be. Still, we did what Irileth ordered us to.

"Oh man, this place got decimated." One of the soldiers whispered. "Hard to believe anyone would survive this."

"Ergnin did." Another replied. "I wonder why he didn't join us. You'd think he'd take the chance to kill that scaled son-of-a-whore."

"Hey, you survived Helgen, right?"

I didn't expect the soldiers to actually talk to me. "Yeah, I did. What of it?"

"I thought that, maybe, you could give us some tips on how to fight it?" The man addressing me spoke nervously.

"Honestly, I had more experience _running away_ from it." I said flatly. What would I gain by lying and making myself some kind of ultimate dragon slayer? "Though I think the dragon you saw around here isn't the same one that destroyed Helgen. It might be weaker."

" _Might_ _be?_ " My answer did absolutely nothing to calm the man down.

Our 'chat' was interrupted by a panicked cry coming from the tower's entrance.

"No! Get back!" A lone guardsman staggered out of the tower, leaning heavily on the wall. His armor was tattered and singed and he had burns on his arms and the half of his face. "It's still around here somewhere! Hroki and Tor got grabbed when they tried to make a run for it!"

The man must've been thoroughly shocked because he seemed to completely ignore his wounds

"You heard him; be on your guard!" Irileth barked out and made her way to the wounded survivor. I followed her because I really doubted that anyone here knew healing spells; aside from Falaere of course, but she'd be more useful watching out for the dragon.

I had to force the guardsman to sit down so I could check his injuries.

In the meantime, Irileth began questioning him. "What happened here? Where's this dragon?" I wished the woman would calm down for a moment; she wouldn't get her damn answers by shouting. I put my healing magics to work, hoping it would at least keep him from dying.

"I- I don't know!" The wounded soldier groaned. "It just swooped down, killed a few of our men and then it-" He suddenly trailed off, his eyes widening in fear as his gaze was suddenly locked on the mountains behind us. "Kyne save us, here he comes again!"

All of us stiffened in alarm at his panicked cry. Then a distant roar reached our ears which only contributed to the unrest among the soldiers. I glanced towards the source of the sound and sure enough, there was a dark shape above the mountaintops. It was rapidly growing in size which could only mean one thing – it was coming straight for us. As it approached the watchtower, I could make out large wings, long tail with a spade-shaped tip, clawed legs and horned head.

Oh yes, this was a dragon, alright. MY guess turned to be true, though; this wasn't the same creature that burned down Helgen. Dull brown skin, fewer and less conspicuous spikes along its back; the dragon from Helgen was all black, seemed far, well, 'thornier' in appearance and, most of all, it was _at least_ twice as big. There was no doubt that the beast that attacked the watchtower was dangerous but its Helgen 'cousin' was the stuff of nightmares. If we were lucky, this one was weaker enough to be taken down.

The dragon was already descending upon us when Irileth started barking orders. "Everyone, take cover! Archers, aim for the wings and make every arrow count!"

I dragged the wounded guardsman back into the relative safety of the tower. When I headed back outside I bumped into Falaere in the doorway. The Wood Elf already had the bow in her hand and her small lithe form was covered in a strange aura; it actually looked like the surface of a rock when viewed from just the right angle.

Right, this was Stoneflesh; she certainly seemed to know a lot about magic, more than I, anyway.

"I'm going to the top; I'll have a better view from there!"

I moved out of her way. "Be careful!"

"You should be worrying about _yourself!_ " She shot back and ran up the stairs. Well, she was right about that; as long as the dragon was still in the air, us foot soldiers were vulnerable.

" _Zu'u Mirmulnir! Thuri Uth Hi Dir Nahkipa Suleykii!"_

We scrambled to hide behind anything that could provide some cover even as the dragon roared in some unknown language. I noticed it was eerily similar to the garbled nonsense the Draugar back in the Bleak Falls Barrow shouted at me during a fight. Maybe there was a grain of truth to the claim that Draugar used to be servants of dragons in the ancient times, back when they were living people.

The moment the beast flew close enough, arrows started raining on it. Though the dragon easily avoided most of them a few embedded themselves in its thick scaly skin. However, they seemed to have about as much effect as poking a bear with a stick. If anything, it made the dragon angrier. As it circled around the watchtower it spat out a huge torrent of flame at the soldiers on the ground. As if by miracle, no one was hit; deep down I knew it was a matter of time before people started dying.

"We need to force it to the ground otherwise we're all done for!" An archer beside me shouted, firing another arrow. The two of us were hiding behind a large rock near a half-collapsed wall. I dared to peek out from our cover.

Grass around the tower was set alight and the fire was slowly spreading. Footmen cowered behind anything that could shield them from the dragon's wrath while archers kept releasing arrow after arrow, trying to get the beast to land. Irileth ran around in the midst of chaos, lobbing lightning bolts after the dragon.

Falaere and a few others were at the top of the tower, shooting at the monster circling around.

It seemed that the dragon recognized them as the most dangerous because it suddenly changed direction and headed straight for them.

" _Hi Fent Neh Ronit Sahroti, Joorre!"_ The dragon bellowed and swooped down at the tower. The archers quickly threw themselves on the ground to escape the claws and teeth. For one archer it was too late, though; the dragon swept him off the tower, sending the poor sod screaming to his death.

I averted my gaze as his body hit the ground.

" _Brit Grah! Zu'u Vodahmanaan Hi Vis Birgaha Grik Yuvon Faantak!"_ The beast roared again in its guttural tongue. Its jaws were parted in something that vaguely resembled a sneer.

 _Great, now it's taunting us…_

It swooped down and released another gout of fire, forcing us to retreat deeper into cover. One unfortunate man was caught in the flames; it was nigh impossible to block out the screams of the unlucky soldier as he was being roasted alive. This was getting worse by every moment; if we somehow didn't get it to land we'd be all dead.

Then something unexpected happened.

The dragon suddenly gave a deafening roar and began thrashing its head wildly mid-flight. Moments later it slammed into the tower... and quite literally plowed straight through it. A good portion of the tower's side at the top collapsed and stones were suddenly flying everywhere. The dragon didn't recover from the impact and landed roughly on the ground, digging out a long wide groove until it came to a halt.

"Get it! Kill it! For Whiterun!" The unmistakable voice of Balgruuf's housecarl cut through the cold air. This was our chance and we couldn't afford to squander it. All surviving soldiers ran out of their cover and charged at the downed beast that was slowly regaining its bearings.

Drawing the sword I got from Balgruuf's armory I joined the attack. As I got closer to the dragon I noticed an arrow jutting out of the dragon's left eye. There was only one person that could make such shot. I didn't know what happened to Falaere and the few soldiers that were with her on the tower when the dragon slammed into it. I prayed that they were all alright.

But first, we had to deal with the beast that stared us down; the hate was clear in its big yellow eyes.

"Hack at its wings! Don't let it take off again!" Irileth roared, hitting the thing with a lightning bolt.

Everyone that could still fight pounced on the dragon; a few archers stayed behind and kept pelting it with arrows. We tried to get at its sides because few of us were so brave, or stupid, to attack from the front.

The one fool who tried was instantly snatched up by the dragon's jaws. There was the awful crunching sound of shattered bones as it bit down hard on the man's body and then it flung its mangled, lifeless torso to the side.

I and a couple of guardsmen hacked at the thin membrane around its forelimbs. The dragon responded by lifting its wings and slamming them back on the ground, shaking us off like if we were nothing but flies.

A soldier that tried to approach it from behind got swatted away by its tail with a bone-shattering strength.

A couple of footmen took advantage of the distraction and attacked the dragon from the front, hacking at its head that already bore a few bloody cuts. With unexpected speed, however, it turned back and knocked one of them aside with its horned snout. The other soldier tried to stab his sword into the dragon's remaining eye but the beast suddenly reared its head and caught his sword arm into its jaws.

The man let out a bloodcurdling scream as the dragon bit its arm off. He staggered backwards, grasping at the bloodied stump.

The best inhaled sharply; I knew too well what was going to follow.

I made my way quickly to the crippled soldier and held my shield up… just as the dragon belched out another torrent of fire.

I crouched down behind the shield as the flames enveloped me. The enchantment on it warded off most of the heat but it still left my lower legs exposed; I could feel the iron plates on the boots heating up rapidly. Luckily, the torrent of flames stopped before it could get unbearable.

The dragon looked surprised when I emerged from behind the shield; maybe a little burned on my arms and with singed armor, but still very much alive. Maneuvering around the snapping jaws filled with long sharp teeth, I stabbed my sword into its neck right behind the head.

The health-sapping enchantment clearly worked because the blisters on my burned skin began disappearing.

The dragon roared in pain and started thrashing around, knocking some of the attacking footmen off their feet. Then it raised its head and neck high in the air; the sword was torn out of my grasp and remained stuck in its neck.

The sudden unexpected movement sent me stumbling backwards and I ended up sprawled on my back.

The dragon then started to lumber towards me, stomping on one of the soldiers that was unlucky to get in its way. The ground was shaking subtly as it approached. It was a pretty fearsome sight that told volumes about what dangerous situation I was in; I still had my greatsword but I couldn't wield it while holding a shield.

It was either to get rid of the shield and risk getting fried to a crisp, or keep it and have nothing to hit back with.

The sapping sword was still stuck in the creature's neck; if I could somehow get to it…

The dragon's deep rumbling voice interrupted my chain of thought.

" _Hi Balaan Hokoron! Dinokiil Fen Drun Zin!"_

It was right in front of me.

I made my decision.

The shield fell to the ground.

Drawing the greatsword I stared down the maw full of jagged teeth. If it wanted me dead so badlythen it'd have to work for it.

Before I could even take a swing at the dragon's head an arrow came out of nowhere and struck its remaining eye.

I glanced in the direction the arrow came from and I saw a familiar Wood Elf nocking another arrow. She had bloody grazes all over her legs and arms and her armor was battered and torn but she looked too good for someone that survived a collapsing tower.

Left completely blind, the beast started thrashing around, screeching in both pain and fury.

" _Hi Daanik Fod Zu'u Siiv, Nivahriin Fahliil!"_

I didn't understand a word it said but it was safe to assume it was cursing Falaere for blinding it. The angry 'tirade' didn't change a thing about the fact that it was vulnerable now… and the remaining troops apparently thought the same because all of them pounced on the beast, hacking and slashing at its enormous scaly body.

"Careful! It can likely still smell you!" Irileth screamed though no one seemed to heed her warning. The sudden turn gave the troops a new hope that the dragon could actually be killed and they attacked with renewed courage and fervor.

While the creature was distracted by fending off the attackers I managed to get to my sword that was still buried in its body and I tore it out, eliciting another pained roar from it. The dragon was bleeding from multiple wounds all over its body yet it still could put up a fight… and it proved that by burning another guardsman to death with its fiery breath.

Then some brave and admittedly extremely lucky warrior stabbed his sword straight into the roof of its mouth.

The beast roared and snapped its jaws at him, only succeeding to drive the blade deeper into its skull. Suddenly, everyone grouped at its head and proceeded to slash and stab with a reckless abandon. With all my might I rammed my sword into its skull through its eye. Somebody on the other side mimicked my movement.

For several moments, the dragon convulsed in its death throes until it suddenly went still. There was a ragged intake of breath and a weak _"Dovahkiin… Nid…"_ and then everything went deathly quiet.

At first we only stared at the huge corpse in disbelief. Once it dawned on us what we accomplished every one of us erupted into cheers.

The dragon was dead.

The euphoria fell a bit when we realized the price we paid for that victory.

Five soldiers died in the battle and many of those that survived were wounded. The man that lost his arm suffered the worst; his days with the Whiterun guard were over. Irileth and one of the archers knelt next to him, trying to keep him from bleeding out.

The Jarl of Whiterun might say that killing the dragon was worth the losses. Honestly though, I wasn't so sure myself. At least it was all over, now… or so I thought.

A few of the guardsmen suddenly gasped and pointed at the dead dragon, shouting in alarm. For a moment I thought the damn thing somehow came back to life. That wasn't the case, though.

When I turned around I saw that it actually burst into flames. Skin, flesh, fat, all of it began to seemingly melt away and turn into some glowing swirling maelstrom of warm yellow aura. It was strange, otherworldly even but I didn't dare come closer. Who knew what in Oblivion it was…

Within seconds, a large skeleton was the only thing left of the once dangerous beast. The glowing cloud of energy seemed to hover above it… and suddenly it shot right towards me.

My body locked up as the aura entered into me. I thought I heard a dragon roar… then I blacked out.

* * *

 _Falaere_

It was funny, in a sense. Just when we thought it was all finally over something else came up just to prove us wrong.

When the dragon's corpse caught on fire and the mysterious energy rose from it as it burned away leaving only bare bones behind, none of us knew what to expect. But at that time, we all thought it was something harmless… at least until it entered Farlas and knocked him out cold on the spot. Maybe it was the dragon's life essence, or something malignant. One of the soldiers even suggested that the dragon wasn't as dead as we thought. It could be trying to possess Farlas' mind or even destroy it.

But these were just wild guesses. None of us knew what was happening.

It was a relief for all of us when he regained consciousness shortly after.

The Imperial sat up and looked around groggily. "By the Nine, what happened?" He mumbled, his words slurring together a bit.

I shook my head. "I- We don't know. Some kind of Aura rose from the dead dragon and entered you. That's all we saw."

The surviving guardsmen gave nods and murmurs of agreement.

All except one; a young thing that looked like he barely lived past twenty winters. The boy kept staring at Farlas with a strange, almost worshipful glint in his eyes.

"You're bein' awfully quiet, Arnulf." One of his comrades said, nudging his ribs.

Only then the boy finally said something.

"I can't believe it… _He's Dragonborn…_ "

I've been traveling round Tamriel for nigh twenty years but I've never heard of this 'Dragonborn', whatever that was. It must've held some significance for the Nords because they all suddenly became very quiet.

"I beg your pardon?" Farlas said confusedly.

"The Dragonborn!" The boy exclaimed with a grin. Farlas just stared back at him blankly without a word. The smile vanished from Arnulf's face. "What… You mean you don't know? How? You're a Nord, you should-"

"No, I'm no Nord." Farlas cut him off and turned to other soldiers. "Can somebody explain to me what he's on about?"

"Uh, it's an old Nordic legend." One of them spoke up. "It says that back in the ages of old, when the dragons were still around, there were heroes of men called 'Dragonborn'. The legend has it that they were the only ones that could kill dragons and steal their power."

"Yeah, and there's more to it." Another chimed in. "My father used to tell me stories about the Dragonborn, those born with the dragon blood in 'em, like ol' Tiber Septim himself."

Okay, this sounded far-fetched and preposterous, just like most of legends. And I did hear about Tiber Septim and his extraordinary deeds but I had no idea what some legend had to do with him.

Farlas was back on his feet, regaining his energy way faster than I thought possible. "That doesn't make any sense." He frowned. "I mean, we just killed a dragon; if the legend is true, wouldn't that make all of us Dragonborn?"

"No, you don't understand! You were the one to steal its power, not us!" Arnulf protested. "Look, the Dragonborn has powers other men could only dream of! Like- Like Shouting!"

Farlas looked completely bewildered by the boy's rambling. "Alright, now you've lost me. Everyone can shout whenever they want; nothing special about that."

Arnulf looked taken aback by his statement but recovered shortly. "Wha- I don't mean simple yelling; I mean Shouting! The _Thu'um!_ Have you never heard about that?"

This conversation was getting stranger by every second.

"Of course he wouldn't get it." A soldier next to me muttered. "He ain't a Nord."

Irileth observed the exchange with a scowl. "Maybe you'd be better off trusting the strength of your sword arm instead of prattling about stories and legends." She said crossly. "Here's a dead dragon and that is something I can definitely believe. I don't need some mythical Dragonborn; someone who can put down a dragon is more than enough for me."

The soldiers didn't seem to like her response to all this, if the sour looks in their faces were anything to go by. I imagined Irileth wouldn't make many friends with her blunt attitude.

Arnulf wasn't going to let this go, though. "What if you tried to Shout? That's the only way to prove you're the-"

Farlas cut the boy off. "I don't even know what 'Shouting' is, let alone _how to do it!_ "

"That's enough!" Irileth butted in. "Stop standing around and gather our dead; we'll need to bury them later." Then she turned to us. "As for the two of you, head back to Whiterun; tell Jarl Balgruuf what happened."

"Everything? Even this 'Dragonborn' business?" Farlas questioned.

The Dunmer shrugged. "It wouldn't hurt, especially when my men seem to really believe all that. Farengar could tell you more about it but I wouldn't get my hopes up if I were you."

So we headed back to the city, leaving Irileth and the remnants of her troops to their devices. Farlas didn't say a word as we walked. He still seemed shell-shocked after absorbing whatever it was that came from the dragon. I knew it sounded ridiculous but the thought kept bothering me.

Could Arnulf be right?

Suddenly the ground beneath our feet shuddered. At first I thought it was an earthquake but there were no cracks in the ground. We looked around frantically, trying to figure out what was happening, when a thundering noise cut through the cold air.

" _ **DOVAHKIIN!"**_

* * *

Author's note: _The Dragonborn has been revealed... From now on, things will only get more difficult. Next time we'll follow our heroes to High Hrothgar so stay tuned :-)_

 _Translations:_

Zu'u Mirmulnir! Thuri Uth Hi Dir Nahkipa Suleykii! _-_ _I am Mirmulnir! My lord commands (that) you die to feed his power!_

Hi Fent Neh Ronit Sahroti, Joorre! - _You will never match my might, mortals!_

Brit Grah! Zu'u Vodahmanaan Hi Vis Birgaha Grik Yuvon Faantak! - _Beautiful battle! I have forgotten you can provide such fine sport!_

Hi Balaan Hokoron! Dinokiil Fen Drun Zin! - _You (are) worthy opponent! Your death will bring (me) honor!_

Hi Daanik Fod Zu'u Siiv, Nivahriin Fahliil! - _You (are) doomed once I find (you), cowardly elf!_

Dovahkiin… Nid… - _Dragonborn... No..._

 _By the way, I just gotta ask: is it normal that the doc manager on FFN won't save names of web sites I write in the document (into author's note, etc.)? In the last chapter, I wanted to put in the link to the web site about dragon language; when I checked the chapter out in preview, the link was gone. Don't know why that is and I have no idea how to work around that, so... sorry, guys._

 _As always, thanks for reading, review, favorite or follow; compliments and/or critique always welcome :-)_


	9. IX) Thane'd

Chapter 9 – Thane'd

 _Farlas_

 _Evening of 20_ _th_ _of Last Seed, Dragonsreach, Whiterun_

The news of the dragon at the western watchtower has spread like a wildfire.

Not that the commoners knew anything of course. They still lived in blissful ignorance, going about their daily business. The guardsmen were a different story, though. I could quite literally feel their stares at the back of my skull as Falaere and I walked up to the Jarl's palace. They knew about the dragon from the guy that was stationed at the watchtower; none of them knew the outcome of the battle, however. One of the guards personally asked me what happened out there. I figured people would eventually learn the news anyway, so after checking that no one else was listening in I told him the truth... except the whole 'Dragonborn' thing, of course.

Finding out that I was supposedly an old Nordic hero, one that could steal the power of dragons for himself, was... It was quite a shock, to be honest. I never was anything special; just a commoner like every other. And now I learn that I'm some sort of blessed-by-gods warrior with special powers that no one has... I came here to start a new life, away from Cyrodiil, from Thalmor and Imperial scrutiny. With the battle at the watchtower, my chances of blending with the crowd suddenly became slim to none. And that wasn't all. If the news about me being the 'Dragonborn' spread across the province, I'd have a horde of many dubious characters flocking behind me, all of them trying to get in my good graces. But you know the world; when someone powerful character appears, just about any influential bastard will try to use them to further their own ends.

Which was what irked me the most about my current situation. I never desired to be some famous, mighty hero... and I'll die first than let some self-conceited pompous nobleman screw me over for their own benefit.

But first, we had to report to Jarl Balgruuf; then we'd really see what kind of trouble I got myself into.

The Dragon's Reach, otherwise a peaceful place, was in uproar over the recent events. Jarl Balgruuf sat stiffly on his throne as he debated with his steward and a couple of other characters, including the court wizard Farengar. As we approached I could make out what they were talking about; they mentioned Greybeards, summons and, of course, Dragonborn.

At least someone could enlighten me on the issue.

The conversation ceased as Balgruuf noticed our presence. "You're finally here." He said and straightened in his seat. "What happened at the watchtower, son? Was the dragon there? And where's Irileth?"

"Your housecarl remained at the watchtower to tend to the wounded and bury the dead, my Jarl." I replied, noting the urgency in the Jarl's voice.

"And the dragon?"

"He… _it_ was there, it attacked a while after we arrived. In the end, we managed to kill it, but at a steep price. Four or five dead, if my memory serves me." I really hoped Balgruuf didn't notice my little slip of tongue. When I absorbed the dragon's 'power', as the soldiers called it, I received flashes; fragments of memories that weren't mine, images that didn't come from my own eyes, and knowledge that came from the age before the very first empire in Cyrodiil was established. Among all those things that I could barely understand, there was this word, the same word I 'read' on the altar back in Bleak Falls Barrow, in the same old language the dragon spoke.

 _Fus._ It translated simply as 'force'... though the real meaning was far deeper than that. As in, the rawest, purest expression of power, strong enough to move anything in its path. I only learned that the moment I took the dragon's power... and along with that, I learned the dragon's name: Mirmulnir.

All in all, it was quite a surreal, and a bit terrifying experience.

The Jarl looked visibly relieved by the news of the dragon's demise. "So the monster is dead; first good news I heard in weeks... A shame we had to lose so many good men, but at least their deaths weren't in vain." He paused and regarded me with a strange glint in his eyes. "But I heard rumors that there is something else."

I certainly didn't like the cryptic tone in his voice.

"Could we talk about this in private, my lord?" I asked carefully. I knew I'd have to tell him about my experience at some point but I didn't feel comfortable doing that before so many strangers.

The Jarl waved his hand dismissively. "There's no one here but us; whatever is said here won't leave this hall. Now is there something I should know?"

 _Here it comes..._

It turns out I might be someone called 'Dragonborn'."

The reaction was almost instantaneous.

Hrongar and the court wizard stared at me, slack-jawed and at a loss of words. The Jarl masked his surprise pretty well while his steward looked hopelessly lost; to be fair, Avenicci was an Imperial so he couldn't know much about old Nordic legends, such as about the Dragonborn. "Dragonborn…" Balgruuf muttered, rubbing his chin. "What could you possibly know about the Dragonborn?"

"I was kind of hoping some of you would tell me." I shrugged awkwardly. "As far as I'm concerned, that's what the soldiers at the tower called me. When we finally managed to kill the damned thing, its corpse suddenly started decaying really fast and some kind of yellowish glowing aura rose from it. Then it suddenly entered my body and I received, well, knowledge, memories; I'm still trying to wrap my head around all this... Anyway, Irileth's men said I devoured its power or something like that. According to what they told me, Dragonborn is some Nordic hero who has powers like no other man. They also mentioned 'shouting', though I don't know what on Nirn that means."

Balgruuf remained silent for an uncomfortably long moment. When he finally spoke up again, his demeanor was suddenly very serious. "I'll take a guess and say that despite your looks you don't have much in common with our people?"

I shook my head. "No, my Jarl. I grew up down in Cyrodiil; my Da was a Nord though, so I guess I did get something from him."

The Jarl nodded. "Well, I'll try and explain everything about the current matter. Farengar, correct me if I get something wrong." Taking a deep breath, he began explaining. "The Dragonborn aren't simply a legend; though they were only few, they did exist. They posses the Voice, which is the ability to focus one's vital essence into a _Thu'um_ – a Shout. It's a blessing from Akatosh, the dragon God himself. Talos of Atmora, or Tiber Septim, as you Imperials know him, was one of them. It is also said that the Dragonborn are the only people able to permanently kill a dragon by devouring its soul, and they used the knowledge gained by slaying dragons to further their own mastery of the Voice."

"Pardon me for interrupting," I felt bad about cutting the Jarl off mid-lecture but this was something I just had to know. "But there's something I want to ask."

Balgruuf gave me a stern look. "Is it related to the matter at hand?"

"Yes- At least I think so." Once the Jarl gave me the 'go ahead' gesture, I spoke. "Back in the barrow, we ran into some odd semi-circular wall; it kind of looked like an altar of some sorts. The really strange thing was that it had some strange carvings, looking like some rune language. I didn't understand what it said but, for some reason, I could make out one word – _Fus_ -"

Very much like I interrupted the Jarl, Farengar the court wizard cut me off. "I believe I know what you refer to. These altars were usually erected to honor those who were buried in the Nordic crypts. It is said that those with the 'dragon blood' can understand some particular words that they can use to project the _Thu'um._ These are called _Rotmulaagge –_ the words of power. _"_

It seemed that I gave Farengar less credit than he deserved. Much of what he said actually made sense. Though there was one thing that I just didn't get. "And how exactly do I project this, um, Voice?"

Farengar smiled thinly. "Your answer lies in the very name of the power – Shouting. You're basically a mortal with the soul and the blood of a dragon; it will come to you as naturally as breathing, should you wish to. Only yelling isn't enough; you actually have to know the words of power in order to determine what form your Voice will take. That is, whether you can knock walls down, breathe fire or ice, or make yourself invincible for a brief time."

This was actually very enlightening. Now I really understood why Arnulf was beside himself when he saw me absorb _Mirmulnir's_ soul. This kind of ability would make the Dragonborn very powerful... and very dangerous.

"Only few individuals, beside the Dragonborn, can actually master this power." The court wizard continued. "Take Greybeards, for example; they spend decades mastering the Thu'um while the Dragonborn can take the same amount of knowledge within moments from a fallen dragon's soul."

"Speaking of Greybeards," Jarl Balgruuf butted in. "Their call is another proof that you're gifted by Akatosh himself." He told me. "They were summoning you."

"Who are these Greybeards?" I asked; it felt kind of embarrassing that I didn't know a thing about all this.

"They are masters of the Way of the Voice. They live in seclusion high on the slopes of the Throat of the world." Balgruuf explained. _Throat of the world_ ; he probably meant that huge mountain that overshadowed the city.

"What do they want with me?"

"As you already know, Dragonborn is gifted in the Voice. If you really are Dragonborn, about which I have no doubts, they can teach you how to use that gift." The Jarl replied patiently. It kind of felt like if he spoke to an idiot child... I wasn't complaining, though. Gods know that I'd use any piece of advice now.

"Didn't you hear the thundering sound as you returned to Whiterun?" The huge armored mountain of a man standing next to the throne butted in.

"Honestly, it was impossible _not_ to hear it." That... _noise_ we heard while going back to the city, it sounded more like an incoming thunderstorm, shaking the very bones of the earth. Except I could actually distinguish words in that racket. _Dovahkiin_... the same thing the dragon called me when it- _he_ died.

"That was the Voice of the Greybeards, summoning you to High Hrothgar. This hasn't happened in… centuries, not since Tiber Septim himself was summoned when he was still Talos of Atmora!" I could tell the guy was just as excited about this as the Arnulf lad.

The steward didn't share his feelings on the matter, though. "Hrongar, calm yourself! What does any of this Nord nonsense have to do with our friend here?"

Avenicci's dismissive remark was like kicking a hornets nest.

The armored giant, now identified as Hrongar, glowered at the bald Imperial. "Nord nonsense, you say?!" Avenicci winced as Hrongar shouted at him in fury. I guess some people didn't appreciate it when others insulted their traditions. "You puffed up ignorant- These are our sacred traditions that go back to the founding of the first empire! How dare you-"

"Enough!" Balgruuf roared and slammed his fist on his throne, silencing the irate warrior. "Hrongar, calm down! Avenicci, watch your mouth!"

"I meant no disrespect, of course." Avenicci replied meekly. "But I can't help myself but wonder what do these Greybeards want with him? Besides, I don't see any signs of him being this, what – Dragonborn." I couldn't help it but roll my eyes at the steward's remark. He obviously knew about as much as I about all this yet he still pretended to be the smart one around here.

"Well, you should learn not to comment on matters you don't know anything about, Proventus." The Jarl replied tiredly. _Couldn't say it better myself..._ "Besides, what the Greybeards want with him is their business, not ours." He then looked at me again. "Whatever happened when you killed the dragon, it revealed something in you, and the Greybeards heard it. If they think you're the Dragonborn, who are we to argue?"

Honestly, I doubted that a bunch of old monks holed up in some monastery on a mountain could know for sure that I was this 'Dragonborn' without seeing the dragon incident first hand but locals, including Jarl Balgruuf seemed to respect them greatly. Since respect is, or should be, earned, then they probably had a good reason.

"So, are you saying I should go see these Greybeards?" I asked the man on the throne.

Jarl Balgruuf gave a curt nod. "Yes, and you should do so as soon as possible; there's no refusing to the summons of the Greybeards, it's a tremendous honor." He gazed dreamily into the fireplace in the middle of the hall. "I envy you, you know? To climb the Seven thousand steps again… I did the pilgrimage once, did you know that?" _Seven thousand steps_? If that was an exact number, well... That would be one hell of a climb. "High Hrothgar is a peaceful place, very… disconnected from the troubles of this world." The Jarl continued, his lips curling into a faint smile. "I wonder that the Greybeards even notice what's going on down here. They didn't seem to care before…" Heaving a deep sigh, he gestured in the general direction of the exit. "It doesn't matter. Go to High Hrothgar, see what the Greybeards can teach you."

It was painfully obvious that I only had one choice. "Yes, my Jarl."

The Jarl wasn't done with me yet, however. "There's one more matter that should be settled before you leave for High Hrothgar."

I gave him a puzzled look. "My lord?"

"First off... I don't believe I know your name."

Oh right... Given that I suddenly became a person of importance around here, as much as I hated it, it was only appropriate to introduce myself since I didn't really think of that earlier. "I'm Farlas Bormirsson, born in the city of Cheydinhal. And my companion here is..."

"Falaere of Falinesti, my lord." The Wood Elf introduced herself with a polite bow.

Jarl Balgruuf nodded. "Very well... For your services to me and the city of Whiterun, I award both of you the right to purchase property in this city. Speak with my steward if you're interested."

Well, this was the first step to settle down in this province, no matter how difficult it would be considering what I turned out to be. "Thank you, my Jarl."

"I am not done speaking yet, young man!" The Jarl exclaimed sternly, even though I could hear a hint of humor in his voice. So I just stood there and waited, wondering what the man had to say.

And when he finally spoke, it was quite a shock.

"By my right as the Jarl, I name you, Farlas of Cheydinhal, the Thane of Whiterun. It's the greatest honor that's within my power to grant for all you've done for my city."

It took a few moments before my brain caught up to my hearing.

… _WHAT?!_

So I was a nobleman, now? Me, a lowly commoner? What would the rest of the court say to that?

It made me think that the Jarl tried to curry favor with me. I mean, having a powerful hero blessed by Divines as a member of the court could prove useful. I found the possibility quite dissappointing because I liked the Jarl. He was no pompous fop like most men in power; he was straightforward, no-nonsense kind of man who seemed to genuinely care about his hold and everyone in it.

"I'm honored, my Jarl." It was a miracle that I said that without stammering. "But what about my friend? She was helping us put down the dragon!"

"Your friend deserves the title as much as you do, we both agree on that." The Jarl sighed in defeat. "But despite my authority, I cannot give away titles however I see fit; there are people who would object to that."

Even the most powerful rules couldn't always do how they wished...

"But as a token of my gratitude," Balgruuf continued, casting a glance at Falaere. "Aside from the option to purchase property in the city I give you an offer of protection... within the boundaries of law, of course. The same for the Dragonborn, though that goes without saying."

"Thank you, my lord." Falaere nodded.

"One more thing," The Jarl continued. "As the tradition goes, I assign a housecarl to you, Dragonborn," Oh, I started to hate this title... "A person whose duty is to guard you and whatever you own with their life."

So now I had a housecarl to watch over me day and night. _Fantastic..._

"May I ask who it is?"

"I believe you'll find out soon enough."

 _Why was he smiling?_

"And if I didn't say it already, it's an honor to have you as a Thane to our city, Dragonborn."

 _Good for you,_ I thought bitterly. For me, it was only an inconvenience. First the Dragonborn, now a Thane... I don't particularly like nobility and politics piss me off. And now I was supposed to dabble in court affairs. It was now crystal clear that all my chances of blending into the crowd were now irrevocably void. I wonder how other Thanes would react to Balgruuf's decision...

No matter, I'll deal with this nonsense later. There were more important things to worry about... like the journey to High Hrothgar.

* * *

 _Lydia_

 _Evening, the Whiterun guardhouse_

I spent most of my life serving with the Whiterun guard, as one of the very few fighting women. Most of my daily routine entailed patrolling around the city and occasional crackdowns on local bandit clans. It was a dirty and sometimes dangerous job but I couldn't imagine myself doing anything else. Some people didn't approve of my choice of career but it was none of their business.

I might be a niece of the current Jarl of Whiterun but that doesn't mean they get to tell me what I should or shouldn't do.

Yeah, I admit growing up in the Dragonsreach was easy enough. But, unlike my cousins, I was actually allowed to go downtown to play. And sometimes I'd sneak into Jorrvaskr to watch the fabled Companions train. That's probably what inspired me to become a warrior, much to my father's dismay. As I grew older, I began to hate living in the palace; Hrongar knew it and he did sympathize but... I loved my father but he could be a bit overbearing sometimes. He didn't agree when I told him I wanted to join the guard and made no secret of it. If Balgruuf didn't talk some sense into him, I'd still be stuck in the Dragonsreach playing a princess or some such.

Anyway, despite its dangers I rather liked my job and the people I worked with. The other guardsmen didn't think any less of me just because I was a woman... though I think being a Jarl's niece had something to do with that.

So imagine my surprise when Caius, the commander of the guard, came in, saying he had something important to tell me.

And the things I learned...

First off, there was a dragon attack at the western watchtower... and our troops actually managed to kill the winged monster. It was hard to believe considering what happened in Helgen but Caius told me it wasn't the same dragon that destroyed the town.

It didn't end here, though. A Dragonborn revealed themselves, for the first time in... what, centuries? Arnulf, one of the new guys in the guard wouldn't stop prattling about how he witnessed him devour dragon's power. And the other men confirmed it, even though they couldn't really explain what exactly happened.

Uncle- I mean _Jarl_ Balgruuf had named the Dragonborn a Thane of Whiterun... and wanted to assign _me_ to him as a housecarl. Currently there was a big feast up in Dragonsreach to celebrate the death of the dragon.

If it weren't for my training, I would've probably fainted right there.

I mean, why me of all people?

I can handle myself in a fight just as well as any man, maybe even better but if what the legends said was true, the Dragonborn was practically a one man army. What use could I, or _anyone_ if I think about it, possibly be to him? Caius told me that I could refuse... but I didn't know nearly enough to make a final decision.

So I went to Balgruuf and Hrongar to discuss all this. I used the back entrance of course; I hated being in the plain view of all those snobs who look down on just about anyone. My uncle already expected me so we could talk in private while the rest of the court was busy stuffin their bellies in the throne hall.

Balgruuf told me everything he knew about my future thane. Hailing from Cyrodiil and knowing little of our traditions, witnessed the destruction of Helgen, came here with a warning about a dragon, retrieved a stone tablet from a crypt near Riverwood, and helped kill the dragon at the western watchtower... all of that while travelling with some Wood Elf. Uncle didn't know how those to exactly got acquainted.

While his deeds were definitely impressive it said nothing about what kind of person I'd be dealing with. The only thing Balgruuf told me was that he wasn't really all that excited about being a Thane and a Nordic hero.

 _Better than serving some self-conceited oaf..._ Still, it was too early to make judgments; we'll see when I actually meet the man.

Balgruuf actually pointed out the Dragonborn among all people sitting at the tables while no one was looking.

Wearing a battered iron armor, my future thane stood out among all those nobles. He didn't wear a helmet which gave me a good view of his face. Tanned skin, long black hair tied with a band in the back, stubbled face with sharp jaw and wide chin; I'd say he had the looks of your typical imperial if it weren't for his unusual steel-grey eyes. Imperials were usually clean-shaven too; never understood the appeal of that myself. Unlike the rest of his company, he looked rather bored, not really engaging in the festivities.

The Wood Elf my uncle told me about was sitting right on the Dragonborn's left, gorging herself on whatever was on the table before her. Like most of her kind, she had angular face with pronounced cheeks and pointed chin and fiery red slanted eyes. She had a pale white warpaint on her face shaped kind of like a bird in flight which stood out on her brown skin. I never met many Wood Elves, aside from the two brothers that owned The Drunken Huntsman inn; those two were good people, though, even if a bit strange...

Balgruuf then told me to don some armor and present myself at the upper floor of the palace; it was time to meet my future thane in person.

Some time later, I stood there clad in a set of steel armor, shield on my back and my favorite sword at my belt. Hrongar also told me to put on some eyeliner, 'to make a good impression' he said. If there was some purpose in that, I didn't see it. Why bother with makeup? I'm a fighter, not some brothel whore!

It took a while before my uncle came back with the new thane. Frankly, I was getting a bit impatient; I barely had any time to properly polish my armor and sharpen my blade with how quick Hrongar insisted I readied myself. I could've been doing more useful things instead of having to stand around like a bloody idiot...

Very soon I heard footsteps; someone was going up the staircase. Then the muffled voices came.

"... You know, there is a house for sale, or two. One's right next to the blacksmith's shop, The Warmaiden's. There's also another one in the wind district; a bigger one, worthy of your status-" There was no way anyone in the city could mistake Balgruuf's voice for someone else's.

"With all due respect, my lord, I don't have nearly enough coin to buy a house. Besides, I don't think I'll be settling down anytime soon, due to this 'Dragonborn' situation." I didn't recognize the other voice. It clearly belonged to a young man; smooth and deep though not nearly as resonant as my uncle's. If I were to guess, I'd say it was my soon-to-be thane. The Dragonborn... By the Gods, I still could hardly believe it.

"Are you expecting trouble?"

"You know, I thought things would go smoothly when I traveled to Skyrim and I nearly got my head chopped off at Helgen because those imbeciles from the Legion didn't check their-"

The two of them finally came into my view... and the Imperial trailed off when he set his eyes upon me. I did my best to remain calm and composed but inside I was freaking out... because this didn't look promising at all.

"Uh, who's this?"

Balgruuf gave him a bewildered look. "That's your housecarl, Lydia. Or have you already forgotten?"

My thane shrugged. "Sorry, I'm still getting used to this whole 'nobleman' thing. By the way, now that I'm a _thane,_ do I have to attend all of your court's sessions?"

"Hah! I imagine you'll be busy for a while now, so I suppose my court can do without your input, as long as it isn't a really crucial matter." Uncle replied. "Right now, I believe you should get acquainted with your housecarl since she'll be at your side in the days to come..."

"Housecarl..." The Dragonborn said, drawing out the word. "Does it mean that she's my bodyguard, the kind of person that'll have my back when I'm crossing blades with bandits, beasts and such? Did I understand correctly?"

It took me a moment to realize that he was addressing me...

Well, his description of my job was more accurate than I expected. I thought he'd consider me a servant, a little more than a tavern wench, which was just insulting.

"My purpose is to serve by your side, my thane. I will guard you and all you own with my life and I will perform any duties you require of me." I explained to him.

"Well, here you have it." Uncle said. "I suggest we skip the ceremonies and get down to the business at hand."

"Right." The Imperial grunted. "I suppose that introductions are in order so here it goes... The name's Farlas Bormirsson, born in Cheydinhal and living in Bruma county until... a few weeks ago. As you might already know, I'm a Dragonborn, or at least the Greybeards say so. They want me to present myself in their monastery, the sooner the better." My Thane scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "Well, since it's way too late to be going anywhere, I'll be making the journey tomorrow. That means my first order to you is to meet me down in The Bannered Mare tomorrow after dawn. Since we'll be travelling together, I hope you're good with directions because I know next to nothing about this land. Anyway, that's about it for the day; you can do as you wish until tomorrow."

Honestly, I was kind of bewildered by the flat, almost disinterested tone; it almost sounded like if he wasn't even there... Maybe it was simply exhaustion, or he simply had enough of having to deal with all this. If I had to guess, I'd say it was probably the former.

Balgruuf chuckled. "Seems like you're getting used to your status quickly, eh?"

The Dragonborn made a grimace. "Not at all, my lord. I just want to get some answers. When gods gave you a power like this, it doesn't usually come free. That's just how it works..." The man suppresed a yawn. "I think I'm going to get some sleep; this day's been thoroughly exhausting. Good night, my lord." He then glanced at me. "See you tomorrow... Lydia."

With these parting words, he headed downstairs.

As soon as he was out of earshot, my uncle turned to me. "Lydia, I realize that he's an outlander, not knowledgeable of our land and culture, and thus might be a bit difficult but-"

"Uncle, I didn't say anything." I cut him off gently. "It's just... He didn't seem to care much about anything; who he is, _what_ he is and what it might mean to us... I just don't know what to make of that." The way he acted... it was really off-putting.

"He just doesn't like attention, something that his status is bound to attract." Balgruuf replied. "I'm sure he'll turn out alright; just give him a chance, Lydia, that's all I ask."

Uncle was a good judge of character but there were few times when he was mistaken. Like Ulfric Stormcloak; we all thought he was a man of honor that wanted what was best for our country... until the dog murdered the High King in his own palace.

Was he wrong about Farlas Bormirsson as well? Only time would show...

* * *

 _Falaere_

 _At the Dragonsreach's entrance, Whiterun_

It's been a while since I was last invited to a feast quite like this. Well, after traipsing around an ancient Nordic ruin teeming with walking corpses and a furious battle with a dragon, where I was literally a hair's breadth away from getting killed, I'd say it was only fair of them to allow me to stay.

The food was great, drinks even better, but soon I found myself in need of a fresh air. I don't know how those nobles could stand the stale air inside. Plus, I didn't think my stomach could take any more; had I kept gorging on whatever they put on the table in front of me I'm afraid I might've failed to keep it all down...

I know overstuffing yourself is bad for your health but, seeing all those treats on display... I just couldn't resist.

Anyway, the skies were darkening quickly, the sun having set a while ago. The crisp northern air worked wonders; in a minute I began feeling much better.

A while later, I heard the palace's front door open.

Farlas, or I should say, the Dragonborn of legends and the new Thane of Whiterun, walked out. He was frowning. I wasn't surprised; he wasn't really enjoying the feast and then Jarl Balgruuf came in and dragged him upstairs. I didn't know why, though.

"Had your fill already?"

"My belly can only take so much..." I joked back; I could tell his jest was somewhat half-hearted, like if something was eating at him. "I noticed you weren't really in the mood during the feast."

He snorted derisively. "You noticed, huh? Look, I'm not comfortable with the thought of being some nobleman, much less a 'legendary hero'. I'm a simple man, I just want to live my life in peace... yet it seems that I can't have that." The Imperial heaved a sigh. "Balgruuf led me upstairs to meet with my housecarl... Turns out it's a _she._ "

I raised an eyebrow at him. "And what's the problem? Not used to someone warming your bed?"

"That's not the point, damn it!" He snapped back. "I've seen the way she carried herself; she'd definitely a warrior, no doubt about that. What's really bugging me is that it all looks like the Jarl and his court are trying to curry favor with me by pushing a woman into my bed! Why else would they assign me a woman as a bodyguard?"

"Hmm... It seems to me that you're overthinking this; you see problems where there's none." I rolled my eyes at the incredulous look he shot me. "You're upset that things didn't turn out the way you hoped, I get that. Believe me, I wouldn't be jumping for joy either. But it's happened and nothing will change that."

"Believe me, I know. But it doesn't mean I can't be angry about it..." Farlas huffed. "I'm going down to The Bannered Mare. We've got a long journey ahead of us and I need to get some sleep."

I looked at him questioningly. " _We?_ "

"Me and my housecarl. You're welcome to come with us though I imagine you'll be doing your own thing now...?"

"I'll think about it." I replied. Truth to be told, I had no immediate plans as of now. I had more than enough money so I could simply travel across the province for a while; visiting some monastery couldn't hurt...

There was plenty of time to make that decision. For now, I was simply content with watching the horizon and the last remnants of sunlight shining through the falling darkness.

* * *

Author's note: _I'd like to first apologize for the delay 'cause this update should've been up week ago. Some college stuff piled up in the last month and now I'll be busy trying to get all that sorted out so I won't be able to update as often for some time. Just a headsup so no one thinks I died or something..._

 _To_ Aqualio: _Glad you like the story, I always appreciate a positive response :-) The previous version wasn't nearly as good in my opinion, hence why I redid it from scratch. Of course, the College questline will be explored too, though it might deviate from canon due to presence of another lecturer (guess who). There's gonna be a lot of playing around with the plot, since there's the Dovahkiin and three extra characters to fit in somehow. We'll see how it goes._

 _As always, thanks for reading, review, favorite or follow; compliments and/or critique always welcome :-)_


	10. X) The Greybeards

Chapter 10 – The Greybeards

 _Elaith_

 _Evening of 20_ _th_ _Last Seed; Blue Palace, Solitude_

"So... you're telling me that an entire town was destroyed... _by a dragon?_ " Jarl Elisif spoke in an even voice that cointained a hint of incredulity. Her mask of indifference, a poorly practiced one, in my opinion, was slowly beginning to slip.

The silence that suddenly fell on the throne hall of the Blue palace became so heavy it was almost unbearable. The Jarl's steward, the court wizard, the thanes, everyone present just stared at us, like if we just told them that Ulfric Stormcloak rode to the Imperial city and swore the eternal friendship to Titus Mede II... and we all knew that wouldn't happen within our lifetime. Or Ulfric's...

We arrived to Solitude not even an hour ago; I, General Tullius and the happy few that survived the destruction of Helgen. The first thing Tullius did was request an audience with the Jarl, saying that it was a matter of great importance that simply couldn't wait. He took me and other two soldiers with him as witnesses.

Seeing how serious the general was about the whole matter, the steward, Falk, had no real reason to refuse him. However, Tullius seemed to forget that nobody in Skyrim saw a dragon in... What? Hundreds of years? _Thousands?_ It would certainly explain why the entire court stared at us like if we were all touched by Sheogorath.

The general didn't seem to be about to answer, failing to realize that no one in the hall was really inclined to believe him. So I had to elaborate in his stead. "It certainly is true, my lady. A huge black beast unlike any other."

The rest of our entourage nodded frantically.

"Forgive me for saying this," Falk began in a controlled tone. "but I find it hard to believe. Dragons haven't been seen around Skyrim for Gods know how long. Why would they appear now? And why Helgen?"

At this point, Tullius finally recovered and cut in. "With all due respect, it's of no consequence why it appeared. What we should do is to take precautions should it come close to any major city in Skyrim."

"What do you propose we do, then?" Thane Bryling, a dark haired Nord woman in a festive garb questioned. "Any ideas on how to fight this beast?"

I shook my head. "It's not about fighting the dragon, it's about minimizing casualties. When the dragon attacked Helgen, we tried our damnedest to fight it off but... It seemed invulnerable. Spells, arrows, whatever we could throw at it had absolutely no effect. All we could do was divert its attention and save whomever we could."

The hall grew quiet. This time, it was not out of disbelief... It was out of fear.

"So it can't be stopped?" Elisif whispered, horror clear on her face. "Is this all we can do, throw our good soldiers at it so it'll be too busy to go after townsfolk?"

"It appears that way for now. We still don't know enough to be making any conclusions, though." I replied. "All we can say for sure is this: if you encounter a huge black dragon with thorny scales and red eyes, do not attempt to fight it. It seems powerful enough to wipe out an entire army; all you can do is run and pray it doesn't see you."

I did notice that the court grew even more nervous at my reply. Downplaying the danger would prove counterproductive; I was supposed to warn the Jarl, not to lull her into complacency by false reassurances.

"Thank you for the warning. We'll do everything in our power to be prepared in case the horror turns up here." Elisif finally said with a carefully managed voice. She couldn't afford to appear weak or indecisive, not when someone could take advantage of her inexperience. "There is one thing I wanted to ask; by what circumstances did the general and his unit turn up in Helgen at the time of the disaster?"

Tullius heaved a sigh that sounded more like a frustrated growl. "A few days prior, my soldiers ambushed and captured a Stormcloak unit headed by Ulfric himself. A public execution was to take place in Helgen." The moment he dropped the rebel leader's name, the hall was in uproar. Tullius then continued as the noise quieted down a bit, his head bowed in shame. "However, the dragon attack disrupted the execution."

"What happened?" Bryling demanded.

The general muttered something under his breath.

"What was that, general? Speak up!"

At Elisif's unusually harsh tone, Tullius finally raised his head and looked her in the eye. "Ulfric managed to take advantage of the chaos that ensued and made his escape, along with a handful of his soldiers."

The Jarl's hands balled into fists.

"We had to help evacuate the townsfolk and were too busy to notice him escaping. Nevertheless, I accept responsibility for-"

"That's enough, general!" Elisif interrupted him. "While it is unfortunate that the traitor escaped while you were in command, I suppose that, given the circumstances, it couldn't be helped." Her voice was tight, like if it actually hurt her to speak. "Now, I and my court have much to discuss, in light of the recent events so I think we're done here."

"Yes, Jarl Elisif." The general bowed and then turned to the exit, gesturing us to follow.

Outside the palace, he sent his other two soldiers to the barracks in Castle Dour to get some rest. That left only the two of us, pacing in front of the palace's entrance.

"Gods damn it all!" Tullius thundered, kicking away a stray stone on the paved road. A few seconds after, he spoke again in a much calmer tone. "I really hoped I wouldn't have to explain our blunder with Ulfric Stormcloak. I felt like a complete idiot when I had to tell Elisif that we squandered an opportunity that won't present itself ever again!"

"Letting civilians burn to death while being able to save them isn't any better alternative." I pointed out.

The general sighed. "I suppose you have a point. Still, our plan to end the rebellion failed miserably and now we have dragons to deal with, to top it all off!"

"With luck, they'll cause trouble for Stormcloaks as they did for us."

Tullius snorted. "Here's the hoping that you're right... But really, is this all we can do now? Just wait and see what happens?"

"At this point, we can't really do anything else." I told him. "We don't know whether this was an isolated incident, or if there's really more dragons out there... equally as powerful as the one from Helgen."

The general shuddered at the thought. Honestly, I didn't really blame him. I didn't know where that black dragon came from or why he picked Helgen, of all places, but... The way it carried itself, the confidence with which it flaunted its supernatural abilities, it was as if it came from another world. If there was any more of its kind out there, then everyone was in grave danger. I mean, how could we possibly fight something that can't be even wounded, let alone killed?

"I know we don't have a lot of options right now. It doesn't mean I have to be content with it. Every dragon attack is going to cost us lives, soldiers or civilians. And don't even get me started on all the property damage..." Tullius grunted. "Sooner or later we'll have to deal with this."

"And we will, Tullius. Dragons are a threat to everyone so I imagine the Jarls will want to pitch in to root them out. Right now, we need information; we have little to go by. I can begin by scouring the library in the College for anything on dragons or anything related to them. And there's also multiple acquaintances across Skyrim that might know something..."

Such as Lod, the blacksmith in Falkreath, Brina Merilis in Dawnstar, Brunwulf Free-winter in Windhelm, which was a dangerous territory for Mer at this time... and last I checked, Legate Fasendil was supposed to head the imperial outpost in the Rift. True, the ongoing civil war might complicate things, with the rebels attacking anything sporting imperial colors and what not, but nothing is ever easy, as they say.

Plus, one that is afraid of danger would never enlist in the Legion...

"I suppose that's the best we can do for now. I just hope we won't have to wait too long." Tullius nodded. "So when are you leaving?"

He began walking down the path to the castle at a slow pace. I followed him.

"I plan to stay at the inn overnight and the next morning I'll leave for Winterhold. I don't travel at night unless it's absolutely necessary. The risk is simply not worth it; you never know what might be stalking you along the way."

The general frowned. "You sure you don't want to sleep in the barracks? The nights aren't safe even in major cities... and many locals aren't too keen on the presence of High Elves, Thalmor or no Thalmor."

"Worried I could get mugged?" I replied with a half-smirk. "Please, I can take care of myself. Besides, anyone with half a brain will keep their distance once they see the blade on my belt."

Tullius shrugged. "Suit yourself, then. Just don't forget about our deal; with those dragons flying about, it's more important than ever to put an end to the civil war."

I wasn't even surprised that he brought that up. Sometimes it seemed that the Stormcloak rebellion was the only thing on the man's mind. At least he didn't try to completely distance himself from the dragon issue and leave it to the others. To be fair, however, he was right to say that the civil war affected everyone, even those that stayed out of the conflict. And with the threat of another Great war looming over the horizon, the Empire couldn't afford to waste its resources on a seemingly endless war and be left vulnerable when the Dominion made its move again.

And given its hateful nature and unshakable belief in Altmeri superiority, it was only a matter of time. The Thalmor might not show it openly, but their end goal was conquering Tamriel and subjugating or eradicating all other races, by any means necessary. And I had every reason to believe they wouldn't stop there. They'd continue their conquest with Akavir, Pyandonea, Atmora and the fabled, long lost continent of Aldmeris that no one was able to locate since the mythic era...

Mede Empire was the only thing in the way of Thalmor megalomania, and with the Ulfric's rebellion raging in Skyrim, it wouldn't last long. My days with the Legion might be over but that didn't mean I'd sit back and watch as everything I fought for crumbled to dust before me.

Who knows, maybe getting involved in Tullius' scheme might allow me to kill two birds with one stone, as they say...

"Oh I won't forget. I'll keep my end of the bargain, you take care to keep yours. I'll be sending letters in case I make some progress on my end... or I might turn up here in person if the circumstances allow it. Until then, farewell, General." I replied and made my way to the inn.

Tullius nodded his response and headed to the castle.

There was a lot of work for either of us.

* * *

 _Farlas_

 _21st Last Seed, en route to High Hrothgar monastery_

If anyone said I was looking forward to the journey to High Hrothgar, they'd be mistaken. While I was anxious to get some real answers about me being this 'Dragonborn' that everyone was so excited about, I had a suspicion that it would only bring more trouble later on. Call me foolish or naive if you want but I believe that no one ever receives great powers without reason. I mean, never before I've shown any supernatural powers, and my aptitude for Restoration magics didn't count. And all of a sudden I turn out to be basically a dragon trapped inside a mortal body; Farengar said it himself that I possesed the soul and blood of a dragon, no matter how ridiculous it might sound.

Why now, of all times? _And why me?_

That was the question I kept asking myself ever since the moment I devoured Mirmulnir's soul. If my newfound powers were a gift from Akatosh, then why give them to me? Why not to someone else? Powers like these don't come without a price and I was sure that my case was no exception. The thought that something, _someone_ above might impose some kind of given destiny on me didn't really sit well with me. I wanted to make my own place in the world... but it seemed that I wouldn't get the chance, not now at least.

In any case, there was no point in lamenting about my rotten fate. What happened, happened and there was no changing it.

We got up early that day. It was necessary if we wanted to reach our destination before sundown and there were some preparations to make before we could set out, such as get more supplies as well as ask for directions. As one of the local guardsmen told us, the shortest route was through Riverwood and Helgen, which was now reduced to ruins. I wasn't really keen on visiting that cursed place again but we had little choice. The man also suggested we stay the night in Ivarstead and make the climb to High Hrothgar the next day. Ascending the Seven thousand steps at night would be downright hazardous; with the ice covering the steps and shrieking winds it was way too easy to lose footing and fall to our deaths.

I wasn't about to ignore his warning. The first Dragonborn to appear in ages, killed a dragon only to die before even mastering his powers, having fallen down the mountain like a fool? Now wouldn't that be embarrassing...

My housecarl, Lydia, waited for us in the inn, just as we agreed the day before. She was already prepared for the journey; her gear in perfect condition, a cloak made of bear fur, and a pack with supplies on her back along with a wooden bow and a quiver of arrows. Maybe it was simply the fact that I was her superior, but she refrained from making any comments when Falaere and I met up with her, far from ready for the trip.

If only she stopped calling me 'Thane' in public... Attention was the last thing I needed right now. As much as I hate ordering people around, I had to tell her to either call me by my name or not talk to me at all. Lydia seemed surprised by my command but accepted it without question.

We spent the next few minutes buying supplies such as food and some more potions at the local apothecary. For a moment I was afraid that the shopkeeps would try to rip us off and then I'd be forced to play my 'Thane card' in order to get us a better prize. It turned out that I didn't give the locals enough credit, though; there were some decent folk in the world after all. In the end, we didn't pay nearly as much as I thought for all the stuff we got.

Then it was a long march to Ivarstead. The carriages only travelled in between hold capitals; that meant no one would take us to Ivarstead. Even if they did, the most direct route led through Helgen... and after recent events, everyone avoided the place like a plague.

And since we couldn't afford to buy horses, there was no option other than going on foot. Honestly, I was fine with that as long as we didn't run into some trouble along the way, such as wolves, bandits and other nuisances.

At the beginning, it seemed like a pleasant walk. The weather was agreeable, sunny and warm, or whatever passes around Skyrim for 'warm'. Nothing crossed our way except for one stray wolf that turned tail and ran at the mere sight of us. Without any interruptions we made it to Riverwood where we turned south towards Helgen.

The sight of the ruined town brought our mood down.

From the looks of it, no one set foot in that place ever since that dragon leveled it with the ground. No one would try and check for survivors or bury the dead, at least. The scorched remains of buildings were still smoldering and burnt corpses were strewn everywhere.

The sight made me nauseous and I barely fought back the urge to puke. Back when the tragedy was happening I was too busy running for my life to notice the destruction. Seeing the end result of the massacre up close... it made my skin crawl.

Lydia seemed equally, if not even more disturbed than us. She began asking us what exactly happened there. With Falaere's help I managed to tell her what I could without reiterating those terrible memories. I don't think I could say much on my own; honestly, the way the Wood Elf spoke about the event, dispassionately without faltering once, was rubbing me the wrong way. True, she was more experienced than myself, having travelled all around Tamriel but not even the most hardened adventurer wouldn't be left cold by such display of death and destruction.

But, I didn't know nearly enough about her to judge.

We didn't linger around in Helgen for long; the place was a fuel for nightmares.

The path to the east began rising towards a narrow pass high in the mountains. As I felt the temperature around us drop, it was pretty clear that the pleasant part of the journey was over.

And as if that weren't enough, we were faced with a bandit ambush before we even made it to the pass.

About half a dozen of guys clothed in lousy leather and fur armors, sporting equally lousy iron weapons; they all came out of their hiding spot behind a rocky ledge and demanded we hand them all our money or else.

A big mistake, though they couldn't have known at the time.

Lydia was the first to charge them, obviously eager to prove her worth.

Even as I was exchanging blows with the brigands, I kept glancing at the housecarl. I'm not an expert, far from it actually, but Lydia could definitely hold her own in combat; can't judge her shield technique because I don't use a shield myself but none of the bandits could land a single hit on her. Each and every one of their attack was stopped by a solid wall of wood and metal that was the housecarl's shield. I found it pretty damn impressive because even though the bandits had no real combat training to speak of, they weren't entirely incompetent either. I'm no pushover myself but I did have some trouble when I faced off against one particularly brawny guy with a warhammer. It was a small miracle that I didn't take a single hit from him. If it weren't for Falaere's deadly aim, who knows how our bout would end...

The skirmish lasted for a good few minutes but at the end, there was five dead brigands lying on the cold paved road. The sixth one had enough brains to try and run away; of course he didn't get very far before Falaere put an arrow straight through his neck. She probably didn't want him to return with some extra friends in tow... or she simply didn't feel generous today. Nevertheless, none of us cared about the criminals we killed. Our main concern was getting through the frozen pass.

As the path before us twisted upwards along the rocks, the temperature dropped. The air became so cold that my limbs began feeling unnaturally numb. And as if the cold wasn't enough, halfway through the pass it began snowing which only added to our discomfort. Falaere was shivering like a leaf, despite being almost completely wrapped in furs; she made for quite a comical sight, looking like a huge pile of fur with a head and a pair of legs poking out. One that didn't stop cussing profusely... I did have the advantage of Nordic blood, albeit partially, but still I had to keep my teeth clenched to keep them from chattering.

Lydia, on the other hand, looked like if the chilling cold didn't bother her in the least. Her armor was sleeveless, leaving most of her upper arms bare; hell, she didn't even have a cloak or anything, yet she wasn't shivering, not even slightly. For a moment, I found myself envious of her pure Nordic descent and I was pretty sure Falaere did too.

Getting through the pass took us quite some time. Still, we were thoroughly overjoyed when, after hours of torture by frost, the road finally descended into the lowlands of the Rift. Trees of every color imaginable all around were a welcome change against grey rocks covered in white snow, not to mention the warm. Falaere visibly recovered after the pass was behind us though she refused to part with her fur cloak which she kept firmly wrapped around her torso.

"Never again..." She hissed through clenched teeth. "Never again, if I can help it..."

"You do realize we'll have to climb the mountain tomorrow, right?" Lydia reminded her. "At the summit, it gets way colder than in the pass earlier."

The only response she got was more swearing.

The rest of the journey went smoothly without any incidents and shortly before sundown we made it to Ivarstead, a small village roughly similar to Riverwood in size. It was way too late to be climbing to the monastery so we booked a room in the Vilemyr Inn for the night. Until now we haven't spent even a half the coin we got from raiding the bandit lair in Embershard mine and Lucan's reward for getting his golden claw back; we certainly had enough money to afford a small feast for the three of us. Well, Lydia tried to refuse but she couldn't really argue with her Thane. Though I didn't like handing out orders I was starting to see the benefits of my position.

I hated how formal Lydia was with me all the time; always 'My Thane' this and 'My Thane' that... If I could use my authority to get her to stop, I'd do it anytime.

As the three of us dined, the locals began trickling into the inn. Ivarstead was a small place so even if all villagers came in there would still be enough space. Still, it became rather difficult to hold a conversation with other people talking over each other. So I ended up listening in on the locals; I realize it's rude but I was curious.

There was some talk of some ghost haunting a nearby Nordic barrow and a local love triangle... but the topic of the day was, _unsurprisingly_ , the Dragonborn. I mean, everyone in Skyrim must've heard the Greybeards' call. The locals were pretty excited about all this and wondered who this 'lucky' individual was. For now, it didn't seem that any of them had the slightest idea.. and I was fine with that. Most of them were firmly convinced that the Dragonborn was a Nord, like if it was a given. I imagined that they'd be pretty disappointed once they learned the truth...

Had the Dragonborn turned out to be an elf or, worse, a Khajiit or Argonian, they'd be outraged, I'd wager. Lydia did tell me that the Rift was firmly in the Stormcloak camp and most of the rebels had no love for elves, or beastfolk. If the rumors were to be believed, they even barely tolerated other races of Men.

I admit, given my disappointment in the Empire, I was sympathetic to the Stormcloak's cause. Hearing about their xenophobia and prejudice to non-Nord populace did lower my opinion on them a bit. Though I suppose that everything in the world has a shady side to it...

We went to bed early that evening, just when the real merriment was starting. A long climb awaited us the next day and we'd need every ounce of strength.

* * *

 _Lydia_

 _22th Last Seed, Ivarstead_

I was seriously regretting my choice to sleep on the floor, in my armor no less.

When I got up in the morning it took my everything not to groan in pain. My muscles protested against any movement I made and every bone in my body ached... even those I didn't even know I had. It made me feel like a frail withered old lady instead of a warrior in her prime.

 _Wasn't I supposed to be used to sleeping like this?_

In the Whiterun Guard, sleeping with the armor on was something of a norm. If you were on a break and there was an attack, you couldn't afford to lose time putting your gear on while the enemy assaulted the city. One had to be ready to fight at a moment's notice. In the last few years, though, no one dared to attack Whiterun and the civil war made life difficult for bandits because they had to watch out for both armies roaming the roads. Long story short, the relative safety made me begin neglecting my training... and now I was paying for it.

My Thane was pretty surprised when I laid a bedroll on the floor and lay down, not even bothering to take my gear off. First he offered me one of the beds in our room, saying he and the elf could take the other one. When I refused, he tried to convince me to take my armor off at least unless I wanted to be sore the next morning. I refused that too, saying that I needed to be ready in case someone tried to kill him in his sleep. It seemed that Irileth's paranoia had rubbed off on me too...

Well, my current state was nobody's fault but my own. My Thane warned me what would happen and this was what I got for ignoring his sound advice.

"You look like you have a bad case of rockjoint." The elf's voice interrupted my chain of thought. "Maybe you should get some tonic for that."

"I'll be fine." I answered curtly.

The Wood Elf raised an eyebrow. "You sure about that?"

"Leave her alone, Falaere." My Thane interjected. "If Lydia says she's good, then she's good. Besides, she should know her limits better than anyone else."

"If you say so." The elf shrugged and went to put her armor on.

I was grateful for Thane's intervention; if I had to listen to that girl's comments on my mistake sooner or later I'd probably lose it. It was stupid of me to assume that after months of light duty I could easily sleep with my gear on and wake up the next day with no pains. What made it worse was the weight of the responsibility that was entrusted to me. Sure, my Thane could handle himself in a fight but he'd always need somebody to watch his back. And how was I supposed to do that, now that I could barely move myself?

It doesn't matter, I told myself. I'll just have to tough it out for the next few days; I'll be smarter next time.

"You don't look so good yourself." Farlas said to the Wood Elf, buckling up his armor. "Something the matter?"

"It's nothing, I'll be fine." She waved her hand dismissively. _Keep telling yourself that,_ I thought to myself. Something was up with that woman; the dark bags under her eyes told me everything I needed to know.

But if she says she's fine, then she's fine. While nothing obligated me to protect her, she was my Thane's acquaintance, if not a friend; I wouldn't stand back and do nothing when something, or someone, was about to get her.

Thane didn't look like he bought the elf's excuse but didn't call her out on it. "Alright, then. We should be off if we want to get to the monastery before dusk." He then turned to me. "Anything we should know about the way up there?"

"I'm not the one you should ask that, my Thane. I've never been to High Hrothgar." I replied. "Maybe one of the locals knows something."

"Good point; we'll ask around, then."

A while later we left the inn, heading for the bridge over a small river on the other end of the village. There we ran into a couple of men talking, a Wood Elf male and a Nord. It turned out the Nord, a fisherman named Klimmek, would routinely deliver supplies to the Greybeards but felt under the weather today. The elf, Gwilin, was about to offer his help but my Thane beat him to it, saying that we were heading up there anyway.

Klimmek was quick to agree, even going as far as to offer some coin for the 'legwork'.

Well, we'd have to be stupid to say 'no' to that...

My Thane then asked the fisherman if there was anything on the path we should look out for. Klimmek said that the path was usually free of all beasts, with the exception of an occasional stray wolf. He did warn us to watch our footing though because higher up the mountain the steps were iced over and thus it was easy to lost one's footing. And with a steep slope right next to the path, such mistake could easily prove fatal.

Thanking the fisherman for the warning, we took the bag with supplies from him and set off to climb the steep narrow path twisting up the mountain's slope.

* * *

I knew from the start that climbing up to High Hrothgar would be no easy task but this particular experience exceeded my expectations.

It wasn't so bad at the beginning. The path was free from any beasts and we could have a look at the small wayshrines along the way. But the higher we got the colder the air became. Then the first batches of snow appeared and very soon the ground around us was covered in a thick unbroken layer of snow. That cursed white mess made our progress difficult as it kept sticking to our feet and slowed us down.

Halfway up the stairs we were already quite exhausted and were forced to take breaks more often. And counting in the bitter cold, we didn't exactly have an easy time. We Nords are used to these conditions and the frost doesn't really bother us but I still felt the sting of cold air on my upper arms that were left uncovered by my armor.

And it only got worse.

Eventually, all flora growing on the slope receded as it couldn't survive the frigid temperatures on the uppermost part of the mountain. All we could see was rocks and snow. My Thane obviously wasn't coping well with the cold, shivering under his iron armor... and the elf was doing even worse. Furs weren't enough to protect her from the frost and she was using her magic in a desperate attempt to warm herself up.

Then the damn frost troll came in.

The ape-like monster popped up out of nowhere, barreling towards us with a furious roar. Tired and freezing, we were caught with our pants down, so to speak.

Somehow, we survived that encounter.

The troll ignored all wounds, all thanks to its ability to regenerate ridiculously fast, and it would've pummeled us all to the ground if the elf didn't hit it with a fireball. The its wounds abruptly stopped healing. Even without regeneration, it was incredibly dangerous to go alone against a troll. But there were three of us... The damn beast fought 'till the very end yet it didn't stop us from killing it.

We were thoroughly beaten and exhausted but we won and that's what mattered the most.

Another hour of slogging through the thick snow passed and we were getting irritated. Freezing cold, stupid snow, sharp wind blowing in our faces and our destination was nowhere near in sight.

"Lydia, don't take it personally..." The Wood Elf spat out through gritted teeth. "But I really hate your land right now."

"Believe me, you're not the first person to say that." I said to her.

"And I also hate you."

I didn't see _that_ coming, though.

"I hate that this fucking cold doesn't affect you while I'm literally dying here!"

"Well, I hate that you didn't think of talking that troll down." I snapped back. I admit, I enjoyed the look of pure consternation on her face. A warrior doesn't necessarily have to be all brawn and no brains. Living in the Dragonsreach had at least one benefit, a huge library above the court wizard's laboratory.

Unlike some people I know, I actually can read and write. That gave me an opportunity to learn a lot about our world from all the books I had access to. That's how I knew that Wood Elves could communicate with wildlife. It would've made our fight with the troll much easier had the damn woman thought of using that talent...

"Ladies, that's enough." My Thane butted in, shivering like a leaf himself. "Don't waste your energy on arguing about pointless things."

The elf huffed in annoyance. "Farlas, I'm tired, I'm freezing and I haven't eaten anything since this morning, so forgive me for being a little cranky!"

Thankfully an outline of a dark ancient looking building came into our view as we passed another turn, effectively silencing the argument that was about to break out.

"Is..." The Wood Elf squinted at the object in the distance. "Is that..."

"I sure hope so..." Farlas muttered.

"There isn't any other building on this mountain." I argued. "This _is_ High Hrothgar, the monastery built by Jurgen Windcaller himself."

"I know, I read the inscriptions on the wayshrines."

The elf visibly livened up and began striding towards the monastery, filled with newfound energy. I found it rather funny considering that she looked like dying just moments ago.

The old monastery was built on a small patch of level land on the otherwise steep slopes of the mountain. A huge statue of Talos stood several paces before the staircase leading up to the entrance. The building seemed to loom over us, commanding respect from every traveller that wandered up here.

We might have admired the sight a bit longer but the cold was unbearable and we really wanted to get inside. My Thane dropped the bag from Klimmek into a chest sitting at the base of a tall tower at the entrance. Then we ascended the stairs.

I couldn't believe it was happening. I was about to meet the renowned Greybeards, the masters of the Thu'um... These monks rarely met with outsiders, so even seeing them up close was a tremendous honor. The thought made it difficult to stay composed...

"So... ready to face the Greybeards?" The elf asked quietly.

My Thane exhaled. "I guess so... It doesn't matter if I'm ready or not. I just have to do this, no way around that." He responded. "Let's go, we've wasted enough time already."

And with that, he opened the door.

* * *

Author's note: _So I'm back, after a long pause. It's been busy few weeks, college projects and other stuff has gobbled up a lot of my free time but now that the holiday's here, I can afford to go back to writing. Even if it's just for a little bit because the next January's filled with exams. I'll do my best to cope with that somehow and I'll keep posting new chapters even if it's less often than usual._

 _To_ SarevokDothrakiDovahkiin _: Your words do me great honor :-) Anyway, I'll do my best to keep this story going until the end. BTW, my OC's are actually based on my characters from Skyrim playthroughs and I really wanted to write something about them, a Skyrim story with an unique spin to it that would incorporate these characters. I'm glad to see I'm doing well so far :-)_

 _So, that's all from me for now. Now, I only wanna wish you all very merry Christmas and happy New Year, and may all your wishes come true!_


	11. XI) The way of the Voice

Chapter 11 – The way of the Voice

 _Farlas_

 _Afternoon of 22nd Last Seed, High Hrothgar_

The moment I pushed the heavy ornamented door open we were hit by wave of hot air from the inside of the monastery. After having to trudge trough deep snow, blasted by frigid cold wind most of the time, even that little was enough to warm our frozen bodies. It made me want to do nothing else but slip quickly inside and close the door behind me, no matter if my companions managed to follow me inside or not. To my surprise I was beaten by Falaere; I expected that the elf would barely move, given how bad she coped with freezing weather. Yet she was somehow faster than both me and Lydia and took off to one of the fires in the main hall. It was astonishing that her frenzied mind somehow remembered to leave the door open to us.

The moan that made its way past her lips as she warmed her chilled body by the fire could only be described as _orgasmic._ She didn't seem to care that the sound echoed throughout the ancient building... and that someone might overhear.

I could almost hear my housecarl roll her eyes. "She does that often?"

"I don't know her nearly well enough to answer that, Lydia."

Our conversation was cut off by a series of quiet footsteps coming from ahead of us.

Four figures clad in long grey hooded robes were approaching us. They were all men, older than sixty years, judging by their heavily wrinkled faces and long greyish white beards. Falaere scurried away from the fire and stood beside us, trying to make herself appear as small as possible.

Three of the monks stopped some distance away while the last one, a tall man with a knotted beard, kept walking. He must be their leader, I thought to myself.

Lydia stared at the men with a worshipful glint in her eyes. For her, this must've been the kind of experience she'd probably never have again.

Strangely, the monks ignored completely my company. Their attention seemed fixed solely at me.

"So, a Dragonborn appears at this moment, in the turning of the age." The one in front spoke. His voice echoed loudly throughout the monastery, unusually powerful for someone of his age.

"How do you know I'm the Dragonborn?" I couldn't help but ask. He seemed to know instantly who I was yet he never saw me before.

The monk raised his hand. "First of all, we'll have to see if you truly have the gift."

"How do we do that?"

"Let us taste of your Voice."

For a moment, I was completely stunned. _The old man didn't just ask me to Shout at him, did he?_ I didn't know how, I've never tried. Farengar may have said that it should come to me naturally but still, I had no control over my newfound ability... or I thought so, at least.

"With all due respect, I don't think it's a good idea." I replied evasively. What if they assumed I knew the basics already? I didn't want to waste their time.

Fortunately, my housecarl came to my rescue.

"Shor's beard, they've been studying the Voice for longer than you've been alive! You're literally incapable of hurting them!"

Falaere gave Lydia a shocked look. No surprise there; no nobleman would ever tolerate their servant or bodyguard mouthing off to them. Fortunately for Lydia, I wasn't really a nobleman, not by blood. Though I did notice she sounded somewhat impatient... I guess she needed a confirmation, or a good show of strength, like all Nords.

Surprisingly, the leader of the monks chuckled. "Manners aside, your companion speaks true. Only through long and thorough practice one can hone their Voice into a powerful and frightening weapon. You discovered your gift mere days ago. Right now, your voice is nowhere near powerful enough to do us harm."

His logic made sense. Still, it wasn't the main problem at the time. "I suppose... But... The thing is I-" The monk's scrutinizing gaze made me fidget nervously. Not something a Dragonborn of legend would do, I think. "I've never Shouted before, I never tried. Not even sure how to go about it."

The monk nodded. "I understand and I can be of help in that regard. Ever heard of Words of power?"

"Yeah... I know just one, though. _Fus._ "

The old man smiled. "Which means ' _force_ '. That suffices for our purposes. Now, a person trained in the use of Voice must concentrate on the Words of power, let their meaning fill their mind, in order to use the _Thu'um._ You are a Dragonborn, though... or I _assume_ you are, at least. It should come to you naturally, _on instinct_ , if you will."

He was telling me basically the same thing Farengar did. Both of them made it sound so unbelievably easy... but maybe it was me who was at fault. I thought it was more complicated than that and maybe that was a mistake. So I did exactly what the monk told me.

"A mere fleeting image will trigger your ability to-"

The next thing I knew, several things happened at once.

Even as the old man was speaking I tried to recall exactly what I saw the moment I absorbed Mirmulnir's soul. The memories popped up almost instantly... and with them a mysterious surge of power seemed to well inside my chest, looking for a way out.

The same power prompted me to roar at the top of my lungs, cutting the monk off mid-sentence.

" _FUS!_ "

A wave of blue energy, the same from the boss Draugr back in the Bleak Falls Barrow, hit the monk. The pots behind him were sent flying all over the place... yet the old man didn't move an inch. _So, a dessicated millenia old corpse is better at this than I am,_ I thought with disappointment.

Of course, at the time I wasn't aware of my companions staring at me with their mouths agape.

The monk, on the other hand, was grinning from ear to ear.

"Dragonborn... _it is you._ Welcome to High Hrothgar." He bowed down slightly. "I am Master Arngeir. I speak for the Greybeards."

I wondered what Arngeir meant by that. Was he something of a spokesman, or was it meant _literally?_ The other three monks didn't say a word ever since I showed up at the monastery...

"Now tell me, Dragonborn. Why have you come here?" It seemed that I'd probably never get used to my new title...

"Well, you did summon me here, didn't you?" I replied politely. "But beside that... I wanted to find out what it means to be Dragonborn because, honestly, I don't know what to do."

Master Arngeir nodded. "We are here to guide you in that pursuit, just as the Greybeards have sought to guide those of the Dragon Blood that came here before you."

"There were more of my kind? Beside Tiber Septim, I mean."

"There have been many of the Dragon Blood since Akatosh first bestowed that gift upon mortalkind. Whether you are the only Dragonborn of this age... that is not ours to know. We can only say you're the only one who had been revealed thus far."

Could there really be more than one Dragonborn within one lifetime? Not too likely, I thought. One was more than enough, the world probably wouldn't survive another, given their abilities.

Better question was: what would happen now...

"Anyway, I answered your summons, Master Arngeir. What's going to happen, now that I'm here?"

Arngeir gestured to the other monks. "We will do our best to teach you how to use your gift in fulfillment of your destiny."

"Destiny?" I intoned. "What _is_ my destiny?"

"That is for you to discover, Dragonborn. We can show you the way... but not the destination."

It seemed I wouldn't get a better answer than that. Still, it was telling volumes about my current situation. After the battle at the western watchtower I found myself wondering why I of all people was chosen to bear Akatosh' gift. The first idea was that the gods wanted something from me. The monk's anwer only seemed to confirm it. I suspected I wouldn't learn that anytime soon, though.

Suppressing a resigned sigh, I said. "I'm ready to learn."

I almost missed the fleeting smile on Arngeir's wrinkled face. "You have shown that you are Dragonborn; you have the inborn gift. But do you have the discipline and temperament to follow the path laid out for you? That remains to be seen..." His gaze wandered towards my company. "But first, we need to talk about your companions."

"Something wrong with them?" I asked cautiously.

"If by that, you mean 'do you have anything against my company', then the answer is no." Arngeir explained. "The problem is far simpler; our invitation was extended to you and _only you_."

Oh.

"You want me to _send them away?_ "

"They are not welcome here." Arngeir said plainly.

To be honest, his argument did make sense. As far as I knew, the Greybeards summoned the Dragonborn and no one else. But on the other hand, did Arngeir really expect me to order Lydia and Falaere to go back to Ivarstead at once, after all the trouble we went through climbing up the mountain? And when the dusk was approaching, no less?

I saw Arngeir's point, but that didn't mean I'd agree.

"I can't do that, Master Arngeir." I said politely, but firmly.

Apart from a slight tilt of his head, the monk showed no reaction.

"It took a lot out of us to get up here. We're all cold and tired. If you think I'll just send them away in this state, at this late hour, no less, then you're sadly mistaken."

"Our purpose lies not in entertaining guests." Arngeir objected calmly.

"Yet I am one, isn't that right?" I pointed out. "Listen, I'm not asking you to accommodate my associates the entire time I'm training here with you. They're not your apprentices and thus have no business being here; I understand that. All I ask is that you let them stay overnight; they can leave tomorrow, after they're properly rested."

For a moment he was silent and I thought he was about to shoot down my suggestion. I was surprised when he then spoke in a resigned tone. "I suppose we can agree to this compromise... Very well, then. They can stay, but only until tomorrow."

I gave a respectful bow. "Thank you, Master Arngeir."

The monk shrugged. "There are not enough beds around here so our guests will have to sleep on the floor."

"That's completely alright, Master, we don't mind at all! Thank you!" Lydia said a bit too quickly and bowed, elbowing Falaere in the ribs. The Wood Elf took the hint and imitated the gesture. I'd never seen my housecarl, the battle hardened fighting woman she was, act in such deferential manner, not even towards Jarl Balgruuf. It seemed pretty funny... No idea how she'd react if I decided to poke fun at her about it someday. Rather not antagonize someone whose job is to watch my back.

As the two women retreated to one of the fires in the main hall, Arngeir regarded me with a stern look. "Now that this matter is out of the way, it is time to begin your training."

* * *

When Master Arngeir said 'training', I assumed I'd spend at least a few weeks at the Greybeard monastery. It came as a surprise when it shrunk to mere _days_. I suspected that me being a Dragonborn might've had something to do with it. Back in Dragonsreach, Farengar mentioned that the Dragonborn learned to master the Thu'um much faster than ordinary humans, including the Greybeard apprentices. I would've never thought the process would be _that_ fast, though.

Still, the training was pretty intense... It may have seemed that way to me simply because I was woefully untrained but what do I know?

First, we started with some meditation techniques that were supposed to help me stay focused, to be able to use my power at will. That was pretty much all we did that day. _Breath and focus,_ Arngeir would tell me. Strangely, only he out of all monks would talk to me. First I took no note of that but as my training progressed, it became increasingly strange to me. Though I didn't ask about it until much later on...

The real training started the next day, after Lydia and Falaere left for Ivarstead. At the time I didn't know how long the Greybeards would keep me in High Hrothgar so we agreed on the following: they were to book a room at Vilemyr Inn and wait for me; if I didn't come back in a week, my housecarl would return to Whiterun and the Wood Elf... well, she could go anywhere she wanted. I wasn't really sure why she was sticking with me.

Anyway, the Greybeards sure did their best to thoroughly test my abilities.

At first, it was nothing but Shouting the word _Fus_ until my throat became sore from all the abuse. It seemed that they wanted to see how long I could keep it up. Needless to say, it didn't take long before I longed for a break. Strangely, there were no dissapointed stares or condescending remarks. In the course of those few days, Arngeir explained to me all he knew of the Thu'um and its use. It's how I found out that _Fus_ was a part of a Shout named 'Unrelenting Force', which was essentially a windblast stronger than most typhoons, certainly strong enough to obliterate any obstacle in its path. And that wasn't all... It was the same Shout Ulfric Stormcloak used to kill the late High King Torygg. I didn't know how Master Arngeir learned that; High Hrothgar was a pretty secluded place. I did notice the disappointed, even somewhat bitter tone in his voice when he spoke about the leader of the rebellion.

" _Young Ulfric used to be our apprentice, studying the Way of the Voice with us here. But he proved too rash, too impatient. He sought to master the Voice as a weapon, when in reality that should be the last of its possible uses."_

Arngeir wasn't too keen on talking about the failed apprentice and soon returned back to teaching. That was fine with me.

As a general principle, all Shouts consisted of three Words of power and the form they took was dependent on those. That was clear enough. Then Master Arngeir decided it was time to teach me another Word of power.

 _Ro,_ roughly translating as 'balance' and the second part of the Unrelenting Force. As the monk explained, using both _Fus_ and _Ro_ would amplify the Shout, making it stronger and more precise.

At first I thought it would involve killing another dragon because where else could I get the necessary knowledge? It turned out the Greybeards had their own tricks, though. Such as the ability to transfer the knowledge to my mind... When I asked if they'd teach me that trick, Arngeir gave me the kind of look a parent would give their kid when they asked a really stupid question. It was possible, he told me, but as there were no other Dragonborn around at the time, it would be pretty much useless.

Well, I couldn't argue with that...

I spent a lot of time practicing the new, two-word version of the Unrelenting Force. In the monastery's courtyard, there were a lot of targets to test my power on; rocks, old pots and kettles which were sent rattling all over the place every time I used the shout. Then the Greybeards gave me other targets: incorporeal versions of themselves, as incredible as it sounds, using a 'Spectral Clone' Shout. That way, I could practice on live targets, or the closest we could get to that, without the risk of harming anyone. We only stopped after I quite literally shouted myself hoarse. After that Arngeir decided to teach me the basics of the Draconic language, as in the tongue in which the Shouts were created. It was so unlike most languages spoken by common folk; it sounded, well, crude, unpolished, for the lack of a better word. Interestingly, dragons used it for Shouting as well as a conversation.

There's an old proverb: _Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me._ So when I learned that words can actually do physical harm, though in a very specific case, it was quite a surprise.

The next day the Greybeards decided to see how well I'd do when learning a completely new Shout. This one was called 'Whirlwind Sprint' and it was supposed to allow me to cross short distances within a blink of an eye. At first they taught me only the first word _–_ _Wuld_ , translating into common tongue as 'whirlwind'.My trial was to pass the gate before it closed, and I had little more than a second to do so.

I had no doubts that I'd learn it quickly. Honestly, I was more worried about practicing right near the mountain's steep slope. One minor miscalculation and I'd be nothing but a wet bloody smear deep down below the monastery.

Not even Master Borri's flawless demonstration didn't make me feel any more confident. When Arngier said it was my turn to try, all I could do was Shout and pray I wouldn't sail over the cliff and fall to my death.

Somehow I made it without killing myself, on my first try, no less. And Arngeir had me do it several more times until he concluded I could do it in my sleep.

On the fourth day, the Greybeards came to the conclusion that I was ready for the final trial. At first I thought they were going to teach me some sort of incredibly complicated Shout to prove my mastery. The reality was far more simple, though.

 _You must retrieve the horn of Jurgen Windcaller, our founder, from his tomb in the ancient fane of Ustengrav. Stay focused, keep true to the Way of the Voice and you will return._

On the one hand I felt relieved, because all that Shouting was wreaking havoc on my throat. On the other hand, though, I wasn't really looking forward to yet another round of dungeon delving. There was at least the small comfort in knowing that I wasn't bound by any sort of time limit.

And so it happened that on the fourth day I left the monastery of High Horthgar and headed down the Seven thousands steps, facing my next task.

* * *

 _A few days prior..._

"Can I ask something, Master Arngeir?"

"Of course, Dragonborn. If it's within my bounds, I will answer."

"How come you're the only one that talks to me around here?"

"It is not out of the lack of desire on my brethrens' part, I can assure you. Their voices are simply too powerful for a mundane conversation."

"Um, what do you mean by that?"

"Their mastery of the Voice simply hasn't reached the level when they are able to speak without channeling the Thu'um. They are capable of killing you by uttering a single word."

"Oh... Has some of them ever manage to speak normally?"

"Master Einar did on a few occasions. It takes him a considerable effort, though... and in our age, we cannot afford to strain ourselves too much."

"I can see that. So... there's only four of you?"

"Five, to be precise. Our leader, Paarthurnax, lives in seclusion at the very peak of the mountain. Not many people get to see him. Meeting him is a great honor."

"Can I ever see him?"

"Only when you are ready... which you are far from at the moment."

"When will I be ready? If you can tell me, that is..."

"When your Voice can open the path to the summit."

"... Master, I've been wondering about that for a while now. What exactly is the Way of the Voice?"

"This will certainly be a long conversation so I'd ask you to bear with me... The Voice was a gift of the goddess Kyne, the one your people know as Kynareth, at the dawn of time. She gave mortals the ability to speak as the dragons do. Although this gift has often been misused, its only true use is for the worship and the glory of the gods. True mastery of the Voice can be achieved when your inner spirit is in harmony with your outer actions. In the contemplation of the sky, Kyne's domain, and the practice of the Voice, we strive to achieve this balance."

"Um, that's noble and all but... The more I think about it the more I suspect that I've been gifted the Voice because I'm clearly meant to do _something,_ like a destiny, as you put it yesterday. Whatever it is, it might not allow me to adhere to your philosophy."

"Your point?"

"Why help me if I don't share your views?"

"As you said yourself, you've received your Gift directly from Akatosh. That would make you, and all Dragonborn in general, an exception to all the rules. We therefore seek to guide you on the proper use of your gift, which transcends all the restrictions binding other mortals. But make no mistake; might does not make right and the Dragonborn are no exception. Many of the Dragon blood commited some most terrible and vile deeds, out of sheer arrogance that came from possessing such a powerful and terrible weapon. And it was their arrogance that eventually caused their downfall."

"Well, people won't have to worry about me trying to take over the world, then. Funny, I came to Skyrim seeking a new life... and what I get is _this._ "

"Such is the way of life, it seems. Sometimes we make our own path... and sometimes fate decides for us which path we take. What we do that is entirely up to us."

* * *

 _Elaith_

 _23rd Last Seed, Mages College of Winterhold_

In these days, Winterhold was nothing but a sad hulk of a city, consisting only of the Jarl's longhouse (like if his position actually meant something), an inn and a couple other houses. The rest of it was taken by colossal waves during the Great collapse. To this day no one knew what caused the tragedy. Of course, the Nords were convinced it was the work of mages, if only because the College was one of the very few buildings that survived the event unscathed. So many people believed it that it eventually became a fact even though no one has ever presented any proof. The College of Winterhold was shunned by the locals, yet it was the only reason people even came to their ruined town.

Irony was clearly strong with this place...

I remember cursing the place when I began working there. Number one reason: the weather. My kind generally didn't cope well with cold and that went double for the chilly climate of Skyrim, especially for its northernmost reaches. I learned very quickly that a thick fur coat was a necessity, even for crossing the courtyard. Then there was its secluded location: on a lone rocky column rising out of the eternally frozen Sea of ghosts, connected with the nearby town only by a small stone bridge which was in so decrepit condition that it was a small miracle it hadn't fallen to pieces yet. The notoriously bad weather, with sharp wind and heavy snowfall, made the College a pretty dreary place overall.

Not to mention the boredom... As a soldier, I was used to travelling around and never staying in one place for long. When, after the Great war, I was stuck here with nothing to do beside teaching, reading, and occasional research projects, it became a grueling experience. There was almost nothing to break my dull daily routine. It was driving me crazy. And I'm ashamed to admit that I took my frustration out on students and colleagues every now and then. Some understood me and others... not so much. To this day, Nirya purposefully looks the other way when I pass her in the hallways and Colette Marence scowls every time we speak just to let it be clear how much a conversation with me bothers her.

As much as I despised the College at first I got used to it over time. But never, _ever_ , have I actually looked forward to coming back there. I suspect my recent misadventures had a hand in that.

During the journey from Solitude I learned some important news. The carriage driver made a stop in Whiterun where I heard the local guardsmen talking about some kind of battle near the city's walls. I didn't think worthy of noting... at least until one of the men mentioned a _dragon._ My curiosity piqued, I listened in on their conversation. They said a dragon attacked Whiterun's western watchtower but a small unit of soldiers managed to slay it. It was quite a relief to hear that the dragons weren't as invincible as everyone thought. On the other hand, it didn't quite explain the mystery of the black horror from Helgen. Frankly, I didn't believe that particular dragon could even be killed, not after I witnessed what it was capable of. I assumed the dragon slain by Whiterun soldiers must've been a lot weaker. That, however, would mean no difference to civilians; even a mere mention of a dragon would cause panic among them.

The most interesting thing about this incident was a presence of two refugees from Helgen that helped kill the beast. It didn't seem like anything special since one could easily assume those two wanted to avenge the people killed in Helgen. When one of the guardsmen mentioned a 'Dragonborn' however, I knew instantly this matter required a closer investigation. The last of the Dragon Blood died during the Oblivion Crisis two centuries ago. For another of his kind to appear right when the dragons returned to the world? I refused to believe it was just a coincidence. Even if it turned out to be mere ramblings of a drunken soldier, this was not something I could just ignore. Especially when this 'Dragonborn' was supposedly the only one capable of permanently killing a dragon. Everyone else would simply displace its soul from its body... if the lore was to be believed.

Nevertheless, this was something worth keeping an ear to the ground for. I'd need to watch out for any piece of information regarding the mysteriou dragonslayer.

The carriage dropped me off near the Frozen Hearth inn. I walked all the way to the bridge from there.

In spite of the thick fog blanketing the town, I saw clearly the outline of a tall woman standing on the bridge. The figure shivered visibly, thick furs wrapped around their body doing nothing to shield them from the chilly wind.

"Halt! Who goes there?"

I couldn't help it but smirk as I heard the very familiar voice. "Drew the short stick today, Faralda?" My kind didn't cope well with the cold; no wonder, given that we came from the warm Summerset Isles. Faralda may have worked at the College longer than I but she acclimated to the local weather about as well as I did... which essentially means not too well.

"Very funny, Elaith. _Shove it._ " The Altmer sorceress grumbled, retreating even deeper into her furs. It took a few moments before her mind caught up with reality; the effect of the dreadful cold, if I were to guess. She crossed the distance between us faster than I thought possible, given the current conditions.

"Elaith?! Where in Oblivion have you been? You should've been back a week ago! What happened?"

"I'll explain everything." I said to calm down the suddenly very animated colleague and friend of mine. "First, we should go inside. I don't want to remain outside in this foul weather any longer than I have to."

"But who will guard the entrance?"

"Please, who'd try to get in the College these days? Nords give this place a wide berth, especially since the Stormcloaks took over in this hold. None will think about setting foot here."

"Alright, fair point." Faralda conceded. "Personally, I'd love to go somewhere warm, guard duty be damned."

"Let's be off then; I'll tell you everything on the way."

As we walked across the bridge, I told Faralda everything about my 'business trip' to the Imperial city and back, and how the second part of the journey went awry, starting with being arrested by Imperial soldiers.

To be clear, the aforementioned business was a meeting with the representative of The Synod. It was mostly all politics, though the invitation claimed otherwise. Long story short, Archmage Aren sent me as his spokeswoman to refuse their proposal for any closer cooperation. It was a well-known fact that The Synod was involved with the Empire. The College of Winterhold always valued its independence and neutrality and had no interest in dabbling with Imperial politics. As a former Legionnaire I might be slightly biased in that regard but I respected the opinion of Aren and my colleagues. Needless to say The Synod was irked by the blatant rejection but at least they didn't try to pressure me.

Anyway, when I recounted the dragon attack in Helgen, Faralda was visibly shocked. That was telling volumes, given that hardly anything could surprise the woman. "I heard the rumors but I didn't think they were true."

"Well, for once people weren't exaggerating. The beast damn near killed me. It was a small miracle that we got out of there in one piece."

Her eyes went wide like saucers. "So that's what Aren meant when he said you were 'indisposed!'" I realized that mentioning my injury was a mistake. "What happened? How serious was it? Did i-"

"Faralda, calm down! I'm completely fine." _Somehow,_ I added mentally. Being rammed into by a dragon and thrown into a burning hut was nothing to laugh at. But she didn't need to know that. "They patched me up in Falkreath and then I rode with Tullius to Solitude where we relayed the news to Jarl Elisif."

"What did she say?"

"Oh, she wasn't pleased. Especially when Tullius was about to have the murderer of her husband executed when the dragon attacked..."

Faralda winced. "Gods, I certainly wouldn't want to be in your shoes at the time."

"Imagine how Tullius must've felt like... Having to admit that he was so close to removing Ulfric's treacherous head, only to fail miserably."

"To be fair, it wasn't completely his fault, from what I understand."

We had just walked past the main gate and entered the courtyard.

"True." I replied. "But that doesn't make matters any better. Plus, there's the matter of the black dragon; the damn beast seemed-"

I trailed off when suddenly I spied a movement out of the corner of my eye. A tall figure had just walked out of the Hall of countenance; an Altmer, male. I had never seen the man around the College before. For a moment I thought it could've been a new teacher, or perhaps even a student. I was quickly proven wrong when I got a good look at his attire; long black robes with golden trims.

The same kind Thalmor Justiciars wore.

An image flashed before my eyes... that of a burning city swarming with troopers in golden armor, bearing the insignias of Aldmeri Dominion.

"The beast seemed what?" Faralda asked, interrupting my chain of thought.

I sprung into action and dragged her back to the main gate and out of the Justiciar's sight.

She let out a surprised yelp. "Wha- What's gotten into-" I quickly shushed her to keep her from attracting the Thalmor's attention.

"What's _he,_ of all people, doing here?!"

"What are you talking about?"

"You know who, Faralda! That bastard strutting around our college sporting Thalmor colors!" I half-whispered, half-shouted, paying no mind to her frightened expression.

She calmed down when it finally dawned on her. "Oh... You mean Ancano? He came here on the Archmage's invitation. Apparently, he's supposed to be his advisor now."

 _An advisor?_ I scoffed internally. _Dog's bollocks..._ Why would Aren let that scum come here? I just didn't understand. "When did this happen?" I asked in a carefully controlled voice.

"A- about a week ago." Faralda stuttered. "Look, I don't know why Aren invited him here. No one asked for our opinion."

"Why am I not surprised..." I grounded out, doing my best to quell my urge to hit something.

"But I can assure you that none of us are ecstatic at the prospect of having Ancano around. The man's arrogant, self-conceited, paranoid, always looking down on us like some vermin. Not a week went by and he already swaggers around like if he owned the damn place. Most of the staff try to stay out of his way just so they wouldn't have to deal with him."

"How are the students taking his presence?"

Faralda heaved a sigh. "They don't trust him, that's for sure. Mirabelle mentioned that Yisra and Brelyna complained to her about him... Something about 'staring at them and being really creepy about it,' I believe."

"So, an arrogant arsehole and a possible deviant. This just keeps getting better and better." I rubbed my forehead in frustration. "One time I leave the College and everything goes to Oblivion." _When it rains, it pours..._

"I realize you're upset, Elaith. I know it must be hard for you having to stomach the presence of a Thalmor at the college, given your background. We don't like this any more than you do, believe me."

While I did appreciate her effort to calm me down, it had no effect whatsoever. Who knows how long I'd have to suffer Ancano around here... One glance at him was enough to trigger the flashbacks from the Great war; siege of Bravil, sacking of the Imperial city, battle of the Red ring. I hated being reminded of those things but as long as the Thalmor bastard remained at the college it would keep happening.

"I think I'll go to the library." I said wearily. "Given the recent events, it's time I brushed up my knowledge on the dragon lore." There was a lot of work ahead of me and I preferred to get it done as soon as possible. "If there are any problems with our 'honorable guest', you know where to find me." Not waiting for her answer, I headed to the Arcanaeum... and hoped I wouldn't run into Ancano.

 _If the bastard tries anything, I swear to Auri-el I will tear him a new one._

* * *

Author's note: _Dear readers, first off I'd like to apologize for late update (I realize I do that quite a lot lately). I was struck with a bad case of writer's block and it took me a while to get over it. I've got a pretty packed semester so I don't know if I'll even be able to update in any regular intervals. But I'll sure as hell try...  
_

 _As always, thanks for reading, review, favorite or follow; compliments and/or critique always welcome :-)_


	12. XII) Nothing is ever easy

Chapter 12 – Nothing is ever easy

 _Elaith_

 _23rd Last Seed, Mages College of Winterhold, The Archmage's quarters_

Inside his chamber, serving both as bedroom and study, Archmage Aren was sitting at a table, his nose buried in a large thick book, as was his habit.

"I realize that we've been colleagues for quite a long time but it's a common courtesy to knock before entering." He called out as I entered his quarters, not even bothering to take his eyes off the book. I was yet to find out how he was doing that, always knowing who came to visit without even looking. It was pretty annoying at first but we all got used to it at some point. "Normally I would ask if you had a safe journey, Elaith, but that question would seem foolish after I've read your letter." The Dunmer continued. "Still, I trust there were no other, ahem, complications after the Helgen disaster?"

I sat down on a chair opposite of him. "Well, I had to stay in a healer's care in Falkreath for a few days, and then I accompanied General Tullius to Solitude to report to Jarl Elisif. But aside from that, nothing happened." I then added with a frown "Well, if you don't count the fact that we have a Thalmor agent strutting around the College."

Aren made a pained grimace when I mentioned Ancano. "I understand why you'd be upset about this decision, my dear. I'm well aware of Ancano's ties to the Dominion. Yes, I accepted him as an advisor but only to convince the Dominion of our impartiality."

"Let's hope the Stormcloaks and their supporters won't ever learn that we're housing a Thalmor agent." I muttered. "It would give them more of a reason to attack us."

The Archmage scoffed at the notion. "Don't worry, none of Ulfric's rebels will set foot in here without our consent. Still, I did state a few conditions for my agreement; first Ancano is to only observe and provide advice. Under no circumstances I will allow him to interfere with the College's affairs that don't concern him. During his stay here, he will answer to me and only me and I will decide what information he'll send to Ambassador Elenwen." He added firmly.

I was very curious how exactly he'd make sure of that. Thalmor spies had their ways. "Do you really trust the Thalmor to honor their part of the deal?"

"Honestly, I don't." Aren replied almost instantly. "That's why I tasked Mirabelle to keep an eye on him. I'm sure she can keep him in line."

 _...and this only adds more duties to her already packed schedule._

It wasn't hard to imagine how Mirabelle could've possibly felt about this. Having to watch over our nine students _beside_ doing our own research into magic is stressing enough already, especially after several accident months ago. And now we'd also have to watch out for our newest 'addition': an advisor from the ranks of Dominion's officers who might as well be a spy. Personally, I didn't have much confidence in the Archmage's arguments. I mean, the Dominion was willing to climb a mountain of corpses to achieve their goals; how does bending a few rules compare to that?

Protests were pointless now, though. Aren wouldn't budge, no matter how hard we'd all press him to throw Ancano out. Well, I might as well start getting used to sharing a living space with an enemy- no, _rival_. The Great war's been over for decades, after all.

"Let's hope we won't regret inviting Ancano here." I said quickly, not giving the Dunmer a chance to speak. "Anyway, I assume you've heard about the recent dragon menace?"

The Archmage nodded. "Words travels fast around Skyrim... and the refugees from Helgen aren't much slower."

"Is that how you've learned about this all?"

"Enthir mentioned that a group of poor souls in tattered clothing had shown up in The Frozen Hearth inn a day back or so. Said that they lost almost everything during a dragon attack in Helgen and were looking for work around here."

"Well, they've come to the wrong place." I muttered. "Winterhold is a sleepy hollow."

"And that's not all." Aren continued. "Reports of a dragon sighting near Whiterun reached us as well."

"It wasn't the same dragon as in Helgen." I interposed. "I've heard the guardsmen in Whiterun actually managed to take the beast down. The Helgen dragon, though... That thing was invincible." I repressed the urge to roll my eyes when Aren gave me an sceptical look. "Look, I should know. I fought the monster and even the most powerful spells I know had absolutely no effect."

The Archmage frowned. "I can see why such a thing could be so dangerous. Helgen was a military keep and it didn't last against it. I doubt one of Skyrim's major cities would fare any better. We might want to look into this."

"That's precisely what I've been planning to." I said and stood up. "I'm going to see Urag and ask if he has anything on the dragon lore."

Aren nodded mutely and went back to his reading.

On my way out, I nearly bumped into Ancano in the doorway. The "advisor" looked rather surprised but I stormed past him before he could utter a word. I wasn't in the mood to speak with that... _person._ I had work to do. Though I suspected this wouldn't be the only time we'd run into each other...

* * *

 _The Arcanaeum_

"Urag!"

The old librarian looked up from the book on the counter and the perpetual scowl on his face softened, if only for a moment. "Well well, our soldier's come back. How's the war goin' out there?"

I rolled my eyes. "There hasn't been a war in twenty six years."

"You might've started a new one while you were gone." Urag gro-Shub snorted. "We all know you're about as diplomatic as my brethren are literate."

My only answer was a leveled look. The Orc jokes ceased to be funny a long time ago, it wouldn't stop Urag from making them, though. On the other hand, I have to admit that an Orc librarian kind of looks like a bad joke... with utmost respect to Urag's abilites. I don't know anyone that does their job as diligently as Urag.

"Bah, you seriously need to loosen up, Elaith." The Orc grunted.

"What I need right now, Urag, is something on the dragon lore." I replied. "It's important for my... _investigation._ "

The librarian raised an eyebrow. "Huh? Why dragons, of all things?"

"It would do you some good to leave the Arcanaeum once in a while. Some fresh air has never hurt anyone... not to mention that you might learn something."

"Ugh, this place would go to the hounds without me here." He spat out through his tusks. "Besides, you still haven't answered my question."

So, I did exactly _that._ "A dragon had attacked Helgen and burned it to the ground. Another one was sighted near Whiterun. I wanted to go through whatever is written on dragons and anything related to them. There might be something that explains why they came back all of a sudden."

"Strange things have been happening lately." Urag grunted and walked over to one of the many shelves in the library. "First the incident in Helgen, then the call of the Greybeards..."

"What do you mean by that?" I inquired. "Call of the Greybeards?"

The Orc stared at me in bewilderment. "Why are you even asking? You didn't hear it? That thunderous sound cutting through the skies three days ago? Late in the afternoon?"

"Can't say I have." I replied with a shrug. At the time, I was in the Blue palace at the audience with the Jarl of Solitude. If there was some 'thundering sound', as Urag described it, I sure didn't hear anything.

"The entire Skyrim heard that racket. How you could miss it is beyond me." The old librarian shook his head. "The Greybeards are a reclusive lot and they don't maintain contact with the world below their monastery. It sure isn't every day that they're calling someone to them."

"I still don't see what that's got to do with my current problem."

"For Malacath's sake..." Urag groaned irritably. "They shouted the word _Dovahkiin_ , even used the Thu'um for that! Think, Elaith; what could that possibly mean?"

 _Dovahkiin..._ The word rang a bell. If I remembered correctly, it translated into the common tongue as 'Dragonborn' and referred to the ancient Nordic heroes. Those were the only mortals that could match the dragonkind in their mastery of the _Thu'um_ – the Voice. The founder of the Septim empire was one of them. Before Tiber Septim, it was Reman Cyrodiil, and, according to some scholars, even Saint Alessia. Alas, the lineage of the Dragonborn emperors ended with the death of Martin Septim. Since the end of Oblivion crisis, no Dragonborn has revealed themselves.

 _Unless..._

"That another one of the dragon blood has been discovered, maybe?"

"So you're getting it, after all." Urag nodded. "Didn't think you of all people would develop an interest in Nordic folklore."

"A true scholar finds value in all information, no matter what the source." I shot back. "Now, can you help me or do I have to find those tomes myself?"

"Oh don't get your knickers in a twist. I'll find your books; you'd just make a mess."

It seemed that Urag was getting pricklier with every passing year.

While the Orc librarian was busy searching through the bookshelves, I sat down on a bench and took a book from a nearby table to pass the time.

 _Flight from the Thalmor,_ huh?

I frowned as I read the title. Maybe I should've looked what I was picking up. As if my mood hadn't been soured enough. I put the book back on the table and grabbed another one. _Hallgerd's tale_ sounded way better. It wasn't exactly a study material but even the scholars of the arcane arts had the right for a light reading from time to time.

I barely read the first page when I heard someone enter the Arcanaeum.

At first, I ignored the footsteps and continued reading. I assumed that whoever it was came here to borrow some books from Urag. That is, until they addressed the librarian.

"I have things to do, what is it?" The Orc huffed. The man truly hated when someone was disturbing him right in the middle of the work.

"Master Urag, have you seen an eyeglass around here?" A quiet, feminine voice asked. "I must've lost it somewhere around here and, well, I can't read well without it-"

"You're welcome to search through the place but don't count on my help."

"But-"

"In case you haven't noticed, girl, I'm in the middle of something right now!" Urag snapped back a bit crossly. "Unless you want to wait until I'm done, you'd better ask someone else to find your trinket."

Putting the book away, I stood up and walked towards the duo.

I understood damn well, that Urag had a frustrating and sometimes thankless job because not many students treated books with due respect, as he required, but that was no excuse for taking his anger out on others. Especially when it came to the one particular student the Orc was yelling at... Her quiet, gentle voice, coupled with a slurred, unclear speech, was pretty much umistakable.

"Urag, why won't you save your wrath for someone who actually deserves it?" I snapped at the librarian. Aside from some angry muttering under his breath, Urag offered no reply and continued rifling through the bookshelves.

I then turned back to the student. "Now, what is the problem here, Yisra?"

"I misplaced my eyeglass. I would find it myself but... My eyes aren't what they used to be." The girl didn't look at me as she spoke, keeping her face hidden under her hood.

I understood well why that was; more than others, actually.

Yisra was one of the senior apprentices at the College. She came from Elinhir, a great city in the eastern Hammerfell near the borders with Skyrim and had a talent for Destruction magics, like most of her people. On the other hand, though, unlike most Redguards, she wasn't trained in melee combat but that was something a good mage could do without. As a person, Yisra was a bit reclusive but kind; however, she was also ambitious and stubborn and always had the feeling she should achieve her goals without anyone's help.

I suspected that was what led to her terrible accident... Months ago, in the middle of Sun's Dawn. I remembered that day with painful clarity.

Yisra was working on an improvement to a standard Flame cloak spell to protect the caster from cold as well as enemies, be it beasts or people. She worked on it in secret, as was her habit, refusing any assistance. Her work must've been progressing well though, because at some point, she let Ilas-Tei, an Argonian and her fellow student, in on her secret.

One day, she decided to finally test the modified spell and snuck out of the College to the nearby beachside. When she seemingly disappeared without a trace, Ilas-Tei became worried and reported it to the first teacher he came across... that happened to be _me._

Due to numerous accidents in the past, the College rules discouraged experimenting without supervision and when Ilas-Tei told me about Yisra's project, I decided to look for her. The two of us tracked her down to a secluded place along the coast of the Sea of ghosts.

The moment a high-pitched bloodcurdling shriek reached our ears, we knew that something went terribly wrong.

Yisra was rolling on the ground in a vain effort to douse the flames consuming her body. Something went wrong with her incantation and the flame cloak that was supposed to protect her from harm was instead burning her alive. Only a counterspell could banish the inferno... and she couldn't cast it, crippled by intense, agonizing pain.

Her tortured screams were haunting my dreams for the next several weeks.

I quickly doused the raging fire with a counterspell but the damage had already been done. Yisra was on the brink of death, her body covered almost head-to-toe in heavy burns. My knowledge of the Restoration wasn't enough to undo such damage; arcane fire was much more devastating than the natural one and thus the burns it caused were much more difficult to heal.

Both Ilas-Tei and I knew that only Colette Marence, our resident master of Restoration magic, could save her.

And she did it, despite the odds being stacked against her. Colette saved Yisra's life in a situation where anyone else would just shrug helplessly and say she was beyond saving.

Alas, her survival came with a heavy price. Yisra was left scarred, both physically and mentally.

The failed experiment left horrifying scars all over her body and took both her beauty and her confidence. Her face was horribly disfigured; her hair, brows, eyelashes, ears and a portion of her nose burnt off. Her lips suffered damage as well which left her unable to articulate clearly. Worse, the fire damaged her eyesight and almost destroyed her sense of touch. She was completely blind in her left eye and couldn't see well with her right eye, having to rely on an eyeglass.

The mental scars were far worse, though.

Yisra became a different person after her accident. She was unusually timid and withdrawn, spending most of the time in her quarters. Whenever she went out, she covered herself up as best as she could. Never again did she try to do something on her own, never showed any kind of initiative... and never did she use a fire based spell again. Her near-death experience left her with a crippling pyrophobia.

We, the teachers and students, tried to help her as best as we could. I like to think that we made some progress but still, it was unlikely that she would ever fully recover.

"Are you sure you lost it here?" I said, prompting her to look up at me.

Yisra shook her head. "Not really, but I didn't find it anywhere else."

"I have some time to spare; I'm just waiting for Urag to give me some materials for my research." I suppressed a smirk as I heard Urag grumble something. "Come on, let's find this eyeglass of yours."

* * *

 _Farlas_

 _26th of Last Seed, Ivarstead_

I thought that once I made it to Ivarstead, I'd stop by at the inn, pick up Lydia and Falaere and head straight to Morthal and the ruins of Ustengrav. There was no point in putting it off; the sooner we get this done the better.

Now imagine my surprise when I enter the room we rented in the inn and see my housecarl pacing restlessly back and forth and the Wood Elf lying spread-eagled in the bed, passed out.

I didn't even get the chance to ask what was going on. The moment she spied me, Lydia began sputtering an explanation. Seeing the usually calm and collected housecarl reduced into a nervous wreck wasn't something I saw coming. Plus, her rambling almost didn't make sense. The few things I could decipher were a haunted barrow near the village, a 'sapphire claw', and an altar. In the end, I just lost my patience and told Lydia to be quiet and sit at the table.

She complied quickly, almost inhumanely so.

Then I bought a bottle of mead from the inkeeper and set it down on the table before her.

"Drink."

The poor woman looked hopelessly lost at the moment... Nevertheless, she grabbed the bottle and took a large swig.

"Better?" She nodded mutely in reply. _We're getting somewhere, at least..._ "Then let's try again; start at the beginning... _Slowly,_ this time."

Lydia gulped and began speaking anew.

* * *

 _Lydia_

 _Flashback – Afternoon of 25th of Last Seed, Ivarstead_

It was the third day since we departed High Hrothgar, leaving the Dragonborn to train with the Greybeards. We spent all that time loitering around Ivarstead. There was nothing to do and my mood was beginning to sour due to the boredom. But my Thane told us to return to Whiterun only after he wasn't back in a week. So I had no choice but to endure another few days in the sleepy village.

One might think that it would pass quicker with a company but the Wood Elf, Falaere, wasn't really one for idle conversation. It seemed she was kind of a loner, used to keeping people at an arm's length, and when she did talk, she scarcely said anything about herself. Besides the fact she hailed from Falinesti and spent last several years on the road, I knew next to nothing about her. Well, if she wasn't interested in talking, that was her choice. I knew better than try and impose myself on her.

All in all, our stay in Ivarstead was a pretty trying experience, especially when there was nothing to keep me occupied.

Until yesterday, when serving girl at the inn began screaming about a ghost haunting a nearby barrow. Turns out it has been going on for some time; the locals knew about the apparition and simply steered clear of the place.

Unlike Falaere, of course... The Elf was too curious for her own good.

She almost instantly started asking questions about the hauntings and in the end even offered to look into it. I almost expected the inkeeper, Wilhelm, to dissuade her but, to my surprise, he agreed.

About an hour later, she came back with an old leather bound journal in her hand. It turned out that the hauntings were one big scam and presented the journal as a proof. It was a work of a Dark Elf named Wyndelius Gartharian, a treasure hunter that came to Ivarstead to plunder what he called 'Shroud Hearth Barrow'. He was a crafty one, using many artful ways to keep villagers away, like rattling pots and kettles, or devising a potion that would give him a ghost-like appearance. Something went wrong during his expedition, though. He never found the treasure he was looking for; instead, for some weird reason he went completely insane, believing he was the guardian of the barrow. In the end, Falaere was forced to kill him.

Wilhelm couldn't believe that the entire village was being played for so long. Still, he gave the Elf a little something for her troubles. A strange ornament shaped like a dragon's claw, adorned with sapphires; he told her he had no use for that trinket but she could sell it off for some good coin.

At first, I didn't know why her eyes nearly bulged out of her sockets when she saw that 'claw'... and I totally had no idea why she asked me to go with her to the barrow immediately afterwards. I learned that later as she dragged me along to the crypt.

Apparently, the claw was actually a key to the barrow... and there was something inside she was after, though she wouldn't say what it was. Wilhelm didn't know that the claw doubled as a key, because the barrow would've been stripped bare otherwise.

So, the two of us ended up traipsing around the millenia old crypt fighting off Draugar, evading various traps and solving old Nordic riddles. As we pressed on, it didn't occur to me to think why those puzzles were so strangely easy to figure out. But at the time, I was just grateful for the opportunity to stretch my muscles and put my training to use. Believe it or not, killing undead was a nice change of pace compared to dying of boredom in the inn. Plus I might've gotten a little too confident given how easy it was to kill the bonewalkers. Falaere would take many of them down with arrows and spells before they could get too close and overwhelm us.

Alas, things were nowhere as easy once we got past what Falaere referred to as 'puzzle door.'

The corridor led us to the main burial chamber, filled with many sarcophagi. The moment we set foot inside, skeletons and Draugar burst out of the coffins and attacked us.

This fight was way tougher than all the previous ones and not only because our foes were far stronger. Their leader used some kind of magic to bring back the minions we killed. Worse, the gate behind us closed, making retreat impossible. Unless we focused our attention on the Draugr lord, we'd be done for. That was when I proposed a plan; it was pretty much insane but at the time we didn't have many options. I single-handedly charged the undead warriors and brought their attention to me. That gave the Elf a chance to take out the lord with her bow.

That battle nearly became my very last... I fought as best as I could but still got cut up pretty bad. Were it not for my set of heavy armor, I'd be dead. Luckily for me, Falaere killed the Draugr lord just when my wounds and exhaustion started to catch up with me. Then she joined the fight and got rid of the remaining enemies while I retreated to the safety to catch a breath.

I'm not a fan of magic; a true Nord uses steel in a battle, not spells. But I have to admit... Watching her blast away at the undead with fireballs and finish them off with her sword, all at the same time... It was pretty impressive. Gotta give credit where credit's due.

After the skirmish was over, we took a break for a while which I used to down a few healing potions. We both assumed the worst was behind us already. If only I knew how wrong we were...

* * *

 _End Flashback_

"... She was looking at some... I've never seen anything like that." Lydia sighed, rubbing her forehead. "It looked like a curved wall, with some strange carvings in it. Falaere started walking towards it. When I asked what she was doing, she told me she saw a glow coming out of it. But I didn't see anything! Had I known what I know now I would've stopped her; everything about that situation just screamed 'trouble'!"

I didn't blame her for being so distressed. If I were in her shoes, I'd probably freak out myself. It's a natural to anything unknown. If only I had come back a day earlier... There was no point in dwelling on it now, especially since Falaere was still out cold and shown no signs of waking up.

"What happened next?"

"The elf was getting closer to the damn wall. I told her to stay back but she just ignored me. Like if she was in a trance or something. Then she touched the carvings... and then she just froze, her body tensing up like if hit by a shock spell. It lasted only for a moment; then she just dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes. I tried to wake her but she wouldn't respond... I had no choice but to drag her back to the inn and dump her into the bed. It was already dark outside when I got her out of there... she's been like that ever since."

I had nothing to say to that. There was a problem on our hands and we had to figure it out soon. Was it possible that there was some kind of dark magic in the wall and interacting with it sent Falaere into coma? And was that wall related to the one we found in Bleak Falls Barrow? I was tempted to go down there and check it out. But there would be time for that later. "We need to get to the bottom of this." I said wearily. "Maybe there's someone in Ivarstead that might know what happened to her."

"I doubt it." Lydia shook her head. "Villages like this one rarely have an alchemist, let alone a wizard."

 _Just great..._ "So what now, then? We can't leave her like this!"

"Maybe get her to Whiterun? Farengar might know what's wrong with her! Or maybe Danica at the temple of Kynareth can do something!"

"Wait a moment!" I interrupted her. "How long is she like this?"

"More then twelve hours, if I were to guess... Why?"

"And no one around here cared to check on her?"

Lydia suddenly looked very sheepish. "... No one knows."

I could literally feel the incoming headache at that point. "You mean to say you didn't tell _anyone_ about this?"

"And what was I supposed to say? That my companion got cursed by some mysterious and evil magic?" Lydia retorted. "The locals were already on edge from the hauntings- I know it was a false alarm but the rest of them don't! How do you think they'd react if they learned what happened down in the crypt? The whole village would descend into chaos! They might've even tried to run us off!"

"You can't know that!"

"What do you think peasants do when faced with something they know nothing about?" She challenged. "I don't know how things go down in Cyrodiil but people here don't exactly trust magic, or magic users! They might've as well told me to get rid of the elf out of fear that whatever curse befell her might get transferred to _them!_ "

I was about to tell her how incredibly stupid line of thinking that was when a third voice cut in, effectively killing our argument.

"Would you two stop shouting, _please?_ A moment longer and my head will burst..."

Much to our shock, Falaere was sitting on the bed, nursing her head in her palm.

Within a moment, our argument was completely forgotten. Lydia and I jumped to our feet and in a blink we were at either of the Wood Elf's sides.

"Finally, you're awake! I was worried you'd stay out cold forever!"

"How are you feeling? Lydia told me you had an accident in the-"

"What's wrong? You have a headache? Do you need some tonic? Or a healer?"

"Do you want to stay in Ivarstead for a few day? You don't look so-"

"I am completely fine!" Falaere snapped back, her voice loud and firm. "Seriously, do I really look like someone who needs babysitting?!"

"You survived direct exposure to some kind of unknown, possibly dark magic." I argued. "I think that gives us the right to be worried."

"I've already told you I'm fine, you don't need to worry." _Damn that stubborn elf,_ I thought. I didn't really know what had gotten into her that she was being so difficult. Whatever it was down there that she interacted with, it managed to knock her out for half a day. What if there were some lingering effects she didn't know about? What if she were to just faint in the middle of the wilds? She'd be an easy target, for wild animals, for bandits, necromancers, or worse.

Well, there was only one thing we could do.

"Alright, fine." I huffed in resignation. "If you say you're fine, then you're fine. _But_ you'll stay with us, until we're sure that the magic you found down there didn't leave any lasting effects on you."

"If you say so." Falaere rolled her eyes. "Now, I believe we have places to be so I suggest we pack up and get moving."

I was about to snap back when a thought occurred to me. _What could she know about that?_

"That's a pretty good guess. Care to tell me how you came to that conclusion?"

She was stunned by the question. To her credit, she recovered quickly but that brief pause told me everything I needed to know. "It's only- what? Four days since you first came to that monastery? That's an awfully short time for a training." She explained calmly. "I assumed those Greybeards sent you out for a test of some sorts. This is a fairly common practice among monastic orders, clergy and the like. And my guess was correct, wasn't it?"

"It was." I nodded slowly. Her argumentation made a lot of sense... but I still wasn't convinced. "We're heading to Ustengrav. There's some, ahem, item of great significance to the Greybeards that I'm to retrieve."

"Very well." Falaere replied curtly and stood up, picking up her backpack lying at the foot of her bed. "I'll be waiting outside the inn."

Lydia and I shared a look. I didn't have to be a seer to know what my housecarl was thinking. "I'll keep an eye on her." I said quietly.

She gave a nod. "When do we head out?"

"Now. No sense in putting it off. We can talk more on the way."

"I'm ready when you are." Lydia replied and picked up her weapons.

I turned my eyes back to Falaere, only to see her form disappear behind the doorframe.

 _What are you hiding?_

* * *

 _Saliyah_

 _26th Last Seed, somewhere in The Pale_

It's been a week since the incident at Morthal.

That day I happened upon a nefarious plot to enslave the town, led by a Master vampire. I had a run in with the man in the past; back then, Movarth was a mortal, a vampire hunter. We fought, I defeated him... and then I let him live. Maybe that was a mistake, since Movarth later became a Vampire, the same vampire that planned to attack Morthal. I and the local court wizard, Falion, stopped the plot, though not without losses.

Two families from the city lost their loved ones. Hroggar was seduced and enthralled by Alva, a vampire masquerading as a local harlot, and later he was taken by her as cattle for Movarth's clan. Unfortunately, we were too late to save him.

Laelette was luckier, all things considered. Alva turned her and made her her personal servant. Later she ordered her to murder Hroggar's family. So Laelette went and set his house on fire to burn his wife and daughter alive; she would've succeeded had I not happened nearby. I acted fast and subdued the fledgling, breaking the bond Alva forced on her. After Movarth was taken care off, I took Laelette under my wing to help her get her vampiric urges under control. It would be difficult for her, since she was a 'half-breed', as we call the vampires that didn't receive their abilities directly from Molag Bal.

But Sybille Stentor conquered her nature and she had no help. I was certain that with the right approach, Laelette just might make it too.

The first night after leaving Morthal we cleared out an old fort west from the town, occupied by a band of necromancers. We took few of them captive while killing off the rest. For once I had a good supply of fresh blood, both for _immediate consumption_ and as a base for blood potions. That's when Laelette's 'training' began.

Alas, the initial results left much to be desired.

First off, I took one of the captives, tied him to a chair and then I made a small cut on his neck while Laelette watched. Most vampires can't stand the sight of fresh blood without going wild so I though this might be a good test to see how much self-control she had as a very young, barely two weeks old fledgling. I concede it might be somewhat cruel but as I see it, necromancers don't deserve any pity.

She held back the first day, though I could clearly see she was struggling with her instincts. The second day was way worse; it took every ounce of her willpower not to jump at the defenseless meat before her. Quick and shallow breaths, shaking, dilated eyes, all this pointed to the vampiric urges slowly taking over. I refrained from trying this out the third day, lest Laelette would go on a rampage. If left alone, she'd succumb to her dark nature very quickly.

It was time to try out a less drastic method; slow starving.

Vampires can go only so long without feeding. Pureblood vampires have better endurance in this aspect but even they have limits, even though much greater than the half-breeds. After passing a certain threshold, a vampire becomes blood-starved. It's a very dangerous condition because at that stage the vampiric nature takes over; in most cases it's permanent, which hugely contributed to the very justified stereotypes about vampires.

I wanted to see for myself how long Laelette could last without blood, just to know what I was working with. Then I'd decide what to do next.

We stayed in the fort for about four more days. I kept Laelette busy by teaching her about vampires; their origins, the clans all over Tamriel, abilites and powers, and so on. I took great care not to omit the Blood matron and her teachings or the Daughters of Coldharbor. At the same time, I carefully observed her reactions and behavior.

The girl was paying attention, at first. But as her hunger grew, she became unfocused, distracted. The fifth day after her last feeding, she was shaking like a skooma addict that didn't get their fix. Only at that point I gave her a blood potion. True, we still had some captives ready but... Feeding on the living wasn't just for sustenance. It also had a lot to do with dominating others, something Molag Bal reveled in. I didn't want Laelette do make that a habit, for obvious reasons.

On 26th Last Seed, our stay at the fort was brought to an abrupt end.

The Legion came in to take the fort and make it their base of operations. We couldn't stay there any longer. Killing the captive necromancers and taking everything of value, we fled through a tunnel in the fort's jail. I reckon it was only a matter of time before that happened; I just wished the soldiers didn't happen to come in right mid-day, when the sun rays were fiercest.

The rest of the day, we spent wandering around the marsh, looking for a hideout. Morthal was out of the question; I doubted the locals got over the 'Movarth' affair already. All in all, the trek wasn't so bad, though. After spending days in the fort doing nothing, I was dying to stretch my muscles a bit. If only Laelette didn't complain so much about 'scorching sun and too bright light'... "Just a part of being a vampire," I told her and gave her a friendly suggestion to get used to it. Plus, my supplies of sun resistance solution were already dwindling and I didn't have the right ingredients for a new batch. We had to use it sparingly, which meant Laelette got her dose while I had to endure the blazing sun without it.

It was a sweet relief when the sun finally set. Too bad that the skies clouded over and it started to rain. I didn't fancy the thought of travelling soaked to the bone so we looked for a shelter.

And we were lucky. There was a wooden shack right in the middle of the marsh.

Laelette just bolted to the shack and would barge inside if I didn't stop her. I didn't want her to get killed by her own recklessness so I decided to scout the place first. I went ahead while she trailed about a dozen steps behind me. Creeping along the walls, I peered inside one of the windows.

I saw fire blazing in the hearth. That meant only one thing: the place was already occupied and if the dweller wasn't inside, he'd come back soon.

"What do you see?"

I looked at her and shook my head. "Not good. We need to find someplace else."

Laelette made a face but turned around and started creeping back to the marsh. Good, at least she wouldn't argue with me.

I began following her but froze mid-step when the door suddenly flew open. No doubt that whoever resided in the shack saw me.

I was ready to skewer them with a volley of ice spikes, expecting them to attack.

But then a very familiar voice broke my concentration and effectively disarmed me.

"Saliyah... You haven't changed a bit since I last saw you."

* * *

Author's note: _And the plot thickens... Safe to say, it won't be anything as straightforward as in the game. BTW, the original fic worked with both Farlas and Falaere being Dragonborn. I decided to drop that idea in the rewritten version because, well... I thought it kind of lame. I read stories that put both Dragonborn and the Nerevarine (from TES III: Morrowind) in the events of Skyrim and that worked out way better than what I thought of at first. Of course, this doesn't mean that Falaere is free from being an object of the gods' machinations :-P_

 _The 'new' students at the College are actually 'borrowed' from a quest that doesn't appear in the final version of the game. Just a small hint; I'll let you guys guess which one it was, though :-)_

 _To_ AghiTron: _Well, that's a very interesting thought. All the points you presented fit really well. Although, I can think of one more parallel (which might not be as accurate): North Korea. I think this one might be even worse because people are systemathically being brainwashed into revering their leader (always from the Kim family) as a sort of demi-god. And those that aren't so 'convinced' are sent to the labor camps to literally work their skins off. And the worst part? The Nazis in the Reich actually cared about well-being of their people (as in, 'racially clean Germans') to some extent at least while Kim dynasty in North Korea always looked out for themselves and no one else. I mean, Kim Jong-un is getting fatter every year while the rest of his country starves? Commoners have to live below the breadline so their government can build nukes and ICBMs? This is just fucked up. Thanks for the review and sorry about the rant._

 _To_ djmegamouth: _Thank you :-) Maybe I'll draw them all one day and post them on the net if I have time._

 _To_ Jonathan Is Epic: _Thanks! I'll do my best to keep 'em all great :-)_

 _To_ nayumyst: _I was wondering why the links didn't show in the chapter... Thanks for bringing this to my attention!_

 _As always, thanks for reading, review, favorite or follow; compliments and/or critique always welcome :-)_


	13. XIII) Unexpected reunion

Chapter 13 – Unexpected reunion

 _Saliyah_

 _Evening of 26th Last Seed, an abandoned shack, northeast of Morthal_

"Saliyah... You haven't changed a bit since I last saw you."

It was literally centuries since I last heard that voice.

We parted ways after the massacre of Anthotis clan and never saw each other since then. It left me completely stunned and I thought that I was just hearing things.

To meet him after such long time, in Skyrim of all places... that just couldn't have been possible. There was absolutely no reason to venture into this frozen corner of the continent. Or was there...?

I don't know how long I just stood there, incapable of deciding if it was all real or just a figment of my imagination. Was it even possible for a vampire to go insane with loneliness, or _anything_ _other than bloodlust?_

"Speechless?" The man chuckled. "Glad I still have that effect on you."

And just like that, any doubts about my sanity were washed away... which soon gave way to the exact opposite of 'stunned'.

Theodric Ysciand was very surprised to find himself on the floor of the wooden hut, with me lying on top of him.

At one point, when my clan's castle was still standing, Theo and I became really close... definitely closer than appropriate. Alas, Theo was one of the few high-ranking vampires in the clan, subordinate only to Anthotis himself and fraternization between ranks was forbidden. I was closer to the _bottom_ of the hierarchy; worse, though master Anthotis accepted me into the clan, I was not of his bloodline, which certainly didn't help my standing.

So after one of Anthotis' servants caught us _mid-coitus_ in a long-deserted guest bedroom, we were _encouraged_ to break off our relationship. There was a danger of expulsion from the clan, even more so in my case, so we complied, albeit reluctantly. We remained on good terms with one another but there were no more trysts after our relationship was discovered.

Then Fate separated us, after Vulpin's betrayal that caused the destruction of Anthotis clan... and for a long time, I thought I'd never see Theo again. Yet I was stunned to find him here, in this old wooden shack at the edge of the marsh; even more so when he recognized me.

When he said my name, the memories of our brief but intense romance came rushing back like a flash flood. All rational thought simply went out of the window; at that moment, I just wanted to feel his lips on mine again after all those years.

Theo didn't protest when I pulled him into a heated kiss. Then everything went by in a blur.

* * *

A while later, we all sat at the fire; me, Theo and Laelette.

The youngest vampire was still sulking, refusing to look at either of us. No wonder; after all, I let her wait in the downpour outside while I was busy _catching up_ with my old 'friend', for the lack of a better word. Even I wasn't really sure what were to one another. Anyway, Laelette was the one to disrupt our reunion as she barged into the shack, spells at the ready, only to find me snogging some man she never saw before. She was understandably pretty upset about the whole situation. I should've exercised some restraint, as my old master Anthotis taught me, but... my old feelings were so much stronger.

"I'm sorry about earlier; I just couldn't control myself." I said apologetically to Theo after a while of silence. "I hadn't seen you for so long and- I should've known better than to jump you like that-"

"It's alright, no harm done." Theo waved his hand dismissively. "Yes, it was a little unexpected but I've lived through far worse surprises." Then he winked at me, much to Laelette's irritation. The young vampire huffed and turned away from us.

She wouldn't just let this one slide, would she?

"You still haven't told me who is the pleasant lady travelling with you." Theo didn't bother to tone down the sarcasm.

Since my companion stubbornly refused to say a word, I decided to speak on her behalf. "Her name's Laelette. We met about a week ago and she's been travelling with me ever since."

"Oh? How did that come about?"

I sighed. "She's very young but you might've noticed already." Theo raised an eyebrow, beckoning me to continue. "Theo, she's barely a month old; worse, she wasn't a willing subject."

"I see." He frowned. "What happened."

I proceeded to tell him how I got involved in a war between Morthal and a coven of vampires led by Movarth Piquine. How he caught a local wench, Alva, and turned her into his sleeper agent... and how Alva later did the same to Laelette; how I arrived to the town just in time to save a family from being burned alive inside their house; how I broke the vampiric bond between Laelette and Alva; and how I and the wizard Falion faced off against Movarth's brood and won.

The entire time I spoke, Theo listened intently, waiting until I finished. Then he began asking questions.

"Why did you take her? You know many vampire clans don't bother with taking in strays, unless they're special in any way."

There was a brief silence until I replied "She deserved better than to become a monster."

"I know where this is going..." Theo muttered to himself before addressing me again. "You do realize this is a fool's errand, Sal?" I couldn't remember the last time he used my old nickname... "You cannot just suppress a vampiric nature, you know that."

To be fair, he wasn't wrong.

"I know... but it's possible to keep it from controlling you, from taking your free will. Many of our kind willingly embraced their dark instincts and became the feared night prowlers. They're content with being slaves to Molag Bal's will... _but I am not._ "

"So you still haven't given up your thirst for revenge." The elder vampire grunted.

I gave a curt nod in response. Theo knew how I felt about the creator of our kind, the one that turned me into an abomination against my will... through an act of love and procreation, no less. Worse, as other vampires I was meant to be his instrument to 'bring Coldharbor to Nirn', as I read it in one book decades ago. That means, to spread corruption and discord throughout the world. That just wasn't something I was willing to acquiesce in.

I resisted my dark nature for centuries; no reason to quit now.

"Maybe you should visit Blood Matron's coven. They might welcome someone like you."

"Lamae Bal? She's still around?"

"You better believe it." Theo answered. "Her coven is still alive and well, and even now it looks for new acolytes to spread their influence."

I frowned. "Why are you telling me this?"

"You have a lot in common, namely your hatred for Molag Bal." Theo explained. "The Matron would use someone like you in her ranks, maybe even make you a Scion if she deems you worthy."

"I'll consider it..." Truth to be told, I wasn't all too keen on joining another vampire brood. True, they might share my hatred of Molag Bal but that didn't mean they had the same worldview as I. For all I knew, they might not even be that different from regular vampires. My mission was to get back at my 'creator' by doing the exact opposite of what I was meant to do, that is, helping mortals and killing other vampires. On occasion, I even met some of my kind that wished to be _normal_ , or as normal as their condition allowed... but those were very rare cases. Anyway, my point was that I travelled alone pursuing my cause for a long time and I've done pretty well for myself. I knew how to stay unnoticed and cover my tracks. Now consider joining Lamae Bal's cult; it was impossible to conceal a whole vampire brood in plain view. Plus keeping all vampires in line as to not succumb to blood thirst would be even more difficult.

To sum it up, I had better chances doing this on my own.

"But, you still didn't tell me how you ended up here, Theo." I asked, changing the subject.

Theo lowered his head, staring at the live coals in the hearth. "I won't lie, it's been rough at times." He said quietly. "More so in the first few years after... we broke apart. We lost everything that night and since we couldn't protect the villages in our territory, the mortals weren't inclined to help us. Not to mention I was hounded by Thrafey vampires for a while."

"Why?"

"To 'avenge the great Navarr Thrafey', of course." He snorted. "I knew I couldn't outrun them, they'd always find me out sooner or later. There was no other choice than to confront them and hope to make it through." The Breton shook his head. "It was one of the worst fights of my life; one guy to take on over a dozen of pissed off vampires."

"Yet here you are talking to me." I commented. "How did you make it out?"

"It took a little planning, some cunning and a lot of brute strength." Theo smirked, showing his fangs. "There is no room for fear when you have nothing to lose."

"So, a flawless victory, then?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Laelette glancing at us, listening to our conversation. Of course, she turned away as soon as she realized I caught her.

 _Right, keep sulking if that's what you want..._

"I killed every single one of them, yes... but I didn't come out of it unscathed." The grin suddenly vanished. "They cut me up real bad as well. I looked like if I got my entire skin torn off my body; just blood, everywhere."

I winced in sympathy. Our kind can suffer some extensive injuries and survive. It doesn't mean we don't feel pain, though.

"That wasn't the worst thing, though. I was slowly going into bloodlust from the wounds and the blood loss. I tried to rein it in until I found a suitable opportunity to feed but..." Theo hung his head in shame. "I failed. Miserably, like never before."

"What happened?"

"About two or three days after that 'incident', I ran into a group of travelers after sundown; parents with a child and a couple bodyguards. My wounds weren't healing well, I still looked half-dead. And they noticed... They approached me, asking me what happened and offering help. I knew it was a mistake; in my sorry state I was barely keeping it together and my instincts were going crazy at the sight of _food_ coming right into my arms." He hid his face in his hands. "I thought I could hold back long enough to get away but... the moment I caught their scent I just snapped. I remember jumping at one of the bodyguards and biting down on his neck. What happened after... I can't remember anything aside from the desire to slaughter every living thing in sight."

He fell silent, breathing heavily. I didn't dare say anything and instead waited patiently for him to finish his story.

"When I finally came to my senses, I was fully healed... and covered from head to toe in blood that wasn't mine." He whispered. "It took a few moments before it all clicked. In my bloodlust, I killed them; the bodyguards, the couple and their child, everyone... Mangled bodies were lying around me, torn to pieces... and the worst was- I was holding a body of a young boy; dead, ripped in half..." Theo looked up at the flames dancing in the hearth. "On that day it truly hit me what kind of a monster I was. I never wanted to go on a killing spree like most of our kind would do, I thought I was better than that... yet I was standing over the bodies of people I had slaughtered with my bare hands."

 _That was..._ I didn't know what to say.

Theo always took pride in his self-control, speaking of both his emotions and his nature. For him to just lose it like that... As much as I loathe admitting it, I'm no stranger to such situation. But Theo... I couldn't even begin to imagine how he must've felt like once he snapped out of his bloodlust and realized what happened.

Words were useless at that moment. But my friend needed comfort; it didn't matter in what way. I leaned closer to him and embraced him from behind. At first it didn't seem to do anything but then I felt him relax a bit under my arms.

"I'm sorry." I couldn't help it; it just came out.

"Don't be." He replied tersely. "I have no one to blame but myself." Just how long was he bottling this up? "I should've known better than to approach mortals in such _fragile_ state of mind. I'm not a _pureblood_ like you. I'm not as powerful, can't control my instincts the way you can. My first mistake was winding up near mortals and allowing them to see me. The second was not getting away in time... and five people had to pay for it with their lives."

Laelette had a look of pure terror in her eyes. She understood that this might happen to her too.

"What did you do then?"

"I buried the bodies and got away as fast as I could." He replied and tossed a few bits of firewood into the hearth. "If anyone discovered the massacre the word would get around quickly and I didn't feel like facing a mob of vengeful peasants. Our kind is powerful but we're far from invincible, as you know. My only choice at the time seemed to be leaving Alik'r, probably for good."

"So, was it what you've been doing all that time? Travelling around?"

"And fleeing once people discovered my true nature." Theo chuckled weakly. "Though I can't say it was all that bad. I learned far more than I'd ever have if I were stuck in our old castle."

"I'll say." I laughed quietly. "Did you have any goals or you just aimlessly wandered around?"

"Well, I tried to continue our clan's work at first; you know, protection, killing feral vampires and all that. I realized it was a fool's errand without any clan to back me up, though. I had to fend off vampire hunters on multiple occasions. In the end, I just decided to act like a mercenary, while I was searching for anyone of our kind who would be open to Anthotis' teachings. And of course, I had to take great care to hide my vampirism."

"I suppose my recipe helped in that regard?" I grinned.

"It did, a great deal, in fact." Theo stood up, freeing himself from my embrace. "But we can talk more of my adventures later."

"You still haven't told me why you came to Skyrim."

"Oh, I got fed up with the south provinces and their warm climate. Thought I could use a change of scenery, and some fresh air; since cold doesn't really bother our kind, Skyrim seemed like an ideal place." He joked.

I gave him a frown. "Come on, Theo. I'm being serious."

"Ugh, since you care so much," He said with an exaggerated sigh. "I heard of the shadow war between vampire clans in Skyrim. I guess we were just curious and decided to look into-"

"Wait a moment." I interrupted. "What do you mean 'we'?"

Theo stared back at me for a moment before mumbling to himself. "Oh, we didn't really talk about that, did we?" He then began explaining. "Aressius Pulotis, a healer and a former priest of Arkay." _Oh the irony..._ I thought wryly. "We met some twenty, thirty years ago in Leyawiin. At that time, he had been a vampire for over a year; he didn't go insane like most half-breeds, though, so it naturally piqued my curiosity." He paused for a moment. "Turns out he was feeding on corpses."

I couldn't help it but shiver at that. Our kind usually prefers fresh blood and many of us find the notion of feeding on dead bodies, well, _disgusting._ "And no one found out?"

Theo smirked. "That's where it gets interesting. You see, he was posing as a priest of Arkay when I met him. And as to why no one caught him? Because one of the acolytes in the Hall of the dead covered up for him."

Oh. That was... pretty unexpected. "Why?"

"I don't really know myself. The boy didn't seem to be a thrall, that's all I can say." He shrugged. "I didn't see any harm in it so I introduced myself to him and decided to hear his story. And what an interesting tale it was... You see, Aressius led a pretty scandalous life for a priest. Alcohol, gambling, even occasional visits to the local whorehouse; incognito, of course. It all changed when he got stricken with vampirism. He claimed that 'Arkay had punished him for his sinful life with un-death.'" Theo scoffed at the thought. "My guess is he simply didn't recognize a vampire when it snuck into the hall and jumped him. I find it pretty ironic that he pretty much turned his life around after he got turned. Since he couldn't perform his 'priestly duties' as a vampire, he turned to the career of a healer while praying to Arkay for forgiveness. Yeah, like if that would help..."

It was impossible to miss the sarcasm in his voice.

"Anyway, we talked, exchanged our stories and it seemed that we reached some degree of mutual understanding. Then a few days later, by some strange stroke of misfortune, someone discovered his secret and he had to flee the city. I guess that was bound to happen someday; what I didn't expect was for him to ask if he could travel with me."

"You're right," I chuckled. "It is pretty unexpected." Honestly, even though I've seen stranger things in my time, the priest's whole life story was still pretty bizarre. I mean, a sinner finding his way to the 'true path' after being turned into a feared bloodsucking monstrosity and somehow not succumbing to his dark nature? And don't even get me started on making friends with another vampire... Arkay was a sworn enemy of vampires, seeing them as a mockery of life, and the same should be expected from his followers. Not in this case, it seemed.

Some things I'll just never understand.

"I barely believed my own ears when he asked me that." Theo admitted. "I couldn't have known at the time but it was a good call to take him with me. He may not look the part but Aressius is actually a fairly competent sorcerer; saved my hide more often than I'd like to admit. Plus, his healing spells saved a lot of people during our travels. Sometimes I wonder if it's really his faith that drives him..."

"He sure sounds like an interesting character. Where is he now?"

"We split up in Rorikstead. There was a word of strange happenings in an old barrow nearby; he wanted to look into it."

"And you let him go alone?"

"Don't worry, the man can handle himself." Theo paused for a moment. "Now that I think about it... why did you come to Skyrim?"

Well, I couldn't evade the question forever, could I?

"I was headed to Solitude, had a business with the local court wizard who happens to be an expert on vampirism." I explained. "She and I had a long talk on the subject but that's beside the point right now. She let it slip that she met another vampire a few months ago... one that happens to be our mutual enemy."

"What do you mean?" Theo questioned, his eyes narrowed.

"The one responsible for the destruction of our clan."

"Venarus Vulpin." He finished. Only clenched fists and stormy look in his eyes betrayed his fury. "What's the bastard doing here?"

"I don't know. He asked Sybille about 'Bloodspring of Lengeir's feast', whatever that is. She told him to search in the Rift."

"Why didn't you pursue him, then?" Theo demanded. "That treacherous double-crossing swine should pay for what he did!"

"Theo, I had my own problems!" I argued. "Besides, Sybille told me Vulpin was determined to turn the province upside down for that 'bloodspring', even though she didn't think it even existed! For all we know, we might-"

Our argument was cut short when Laelette, silent until this moment, suddenly hissed "Quiet, someone's coming!" Then a moment later, she added "They're heading our way!"

Theo cursed quietly to himself. "Damn it! I thought this hut was deserted."

"We have to get out of here!" I hissed back. "Whoever lives here won't be pleased to see uninvited guests."

Laelette was already halfway through the door.

It was at that moment when I realized that I forgot to teach her to make herself invisible. If they saw her sneaking out of this shack, there was no telling what they'd do to her. And if they discovered she was a vampire...

Theo and I followed after her, our invisibility shielding us from any prying eyes. If someone attacked Laelette, we were ready to take care of the assailants.

Fortunately, no one noticed her, as she ducked into the shadows as soon as she left the shack; acting on instinct, most likely. The two of us hid in the thick shrubs near the hut. From there we watched the marsh where faint noises were coming from. A single set of footsteps, very quiet. Even I had to strain my ears to catch them; whoever it was must've been very adept at sneaking around without being seen.

Moments later, the occupant of the shack came into our view.

Laelette picked the exact same moment to pop up next to us. "What are you doing? They're gonna-"

Theo put a hand over her mouth, much to her annoyance.

Fortunately, the intruder didn't hear a sound and kept walking towards the shack. Even in near total dark I could distinguish the features of the figure.

A tall, distinctly feminine frame; athletic build, definitely a fighter; a wicked looking dagger at her belt; covered head to toe in a tight fitting set of red and black armor...

The last one caught my attention. I'd recognize that outfit anywhere.

"By Namira's saggy tits, I broke into a Dark Brotherhood hideout!" Apparently, Theo would too. "I can't believe this..."

We were extremely lucky we got out of that place in time.

Dark Brotherhood assassins were some of the very few people that could go toe-to-toe with a vampire and survive. I should know, because the Brotherhood in Cyrodiil put a price on my head about a hundred years ago. A long story that involved me happening across a would-be murder and intervening, which didn't end well for the assassin. Since then, I had to defend myself against multiple assassination attempts which didn't end until I crossed the border to High Rock.

The Brotherhood assassin opened the shack's door and walked inside. As soon as she was out of sight, we bolted. It didn't matter where to, just far away from the hut.

"What a shame, I was just starting to settle in." Theo lamented the loss of the warm shelter.

"Fret not, friend." I replied as we ran. "We can still stay in Movarth's hideout for a few days! Might not be as warm but it's pretty lavish looking!"

"What if there are people in there?" Laelette asked fearfully.

"Then we'll just scare them off, subtly of course." Theo joked. "We need somewhere to stay while we figure out our next move."

"Which is?"

"How to get to the Rift without attracting attention."

Laelette frowned at my answer. "Why there?"

I smirked, flashing my fangs at the young vampire. "Because, as you probably know, my dear, somewhere out there is a person I have a score to settle with."

* * *

 _Farlas_

 _29th Last Seed, Whiterun hold, somewhere north-east of Rorikstead_

When I finally made it out of the Bleak Falls Barrow I told myself I had enough of dungeon delving for a lifetime. Ironically enough, here I was along with Falaere and Lydia, about to enter another old crypt. And as if Draugar weren't bad enough, this particular place was infested with ghosts.

It wasn't my fault, though... not really at least. The barrow just happened to be along the way to the Cold rock pass, the most direct route to Morthal. Plus, it was something I, sort of, _pledged_ myself to look into.

A few hours ago we made a stop in a farm village of Rorikstead to resupply; I overheard the locals talking about travellers mysteriously disappearing in the plains north of the village. No one paid any notice to it until now, after one of the villagers vanished. The leader of the settlement asked us to try and solve the mystery. I could've refused and said we had more pressing matters to tend to but... Call me a softie if you will but I just didn't have the heart to say no to the old man. Besides, Rorik offered to pay some hefty sum and we could all use some extra coin.

Strangely, I didn't hear Falaere complain about having to traipse around an old crypt again.

Now that I think about it, Falaere was acting strange ever since I came back from High Hrothgar. It's hard to describe the sudden shift in behavior. The elf just became kind of _withdrawn_ ; even normally she wasn't much of a talker but now she barely spoke a word ever since we left for Ustengrav. Lydia and I both knew that something was up with her but every time we tried asking her she'd just scoff at our concern, saying that she was fine. She had us both worried in spite of her vehement denial... especially after I caught her muttering things in her sleep.

I didn't know what exactly happened to her down in the Shroud Hearth Barrow, but it was clear that we'd have to confront this issue at some point.

At least her troubles didn't affect her combat prowess.

We got attacked by a group of ghosts near the old ruin we happened upon during the journey. It was a tough battle but we survived. If it weren't for Falaere's warning, who knows how the fight would end.

What was strange about the encounter was that the specters weren't all that willing to fight us... yet something compelled- no, forced them to do so. Lydia suggested it might have something to do with the disappearances... and I was inclined to agree.

Malevolent ghosts wouldn't be bothering with warning the wanderers to stay away. Something was definitely amiss.

Whatever lingered inside the barrow was dangerous; the enslaved spirits were the proof of that. Honestly, I wasn't too keen on going into that place, with no idea of what we'd be facing. But damn it, I promised Rorik I'd get to the bottom of those disappearances. The Dragonborn going back on his word? That would only set a wrong example.

With a heavy heart and a trembling sword arm, I and my companions delved into the old barrow, hoping we wouldn't become additions to the tortured souls trapped within.

On the inside, this tomb seemed even more run down than the Bleak Falls Barrow. Everything was falling apart and it was a small miracle that the hallways hadn't caved in already. We had to tread carefully unless we wanted the place to come down on our heads.

Of course, with the ghosts around, that was easier said than done.

We encountered them in groups of three or four. The battle was almost the same every time; first they warned us to stay away and when we approached they attacked, always calling out that they had no choice. Neither did we, however, as we were forced to send them in their way to afterlife. It just seemed to confirm the suspicion that something, or _someone_ , was enthralling them. It just made me more determined to put an end to whatever was going on in here.

Then, after the third battle or so, I noticed one unsettling fact. The deeper we went in, the more powerful the spirits seemed to become. Fatigue was already starting to weigh us down and we hadn't even made it into the main burial chamber. If there was anything like the draugr lord in the Bleak Falls Barrow... then we'd have a huge problem.

It came as a surprise when the burial chamber turned out to be deserted... with the exception of four ghostly warriors that charged at us as soon as we set foot inside. Out of the foes we fought since entering the crypt, these spirits were the strongest and it took everything we had to defeat them. It was the first time I actually had to use a Shout in battle. Not Unrelenting Force; using that Shout in a half-collapsed ruin was a very bad idea. Whirlwind sprint helped out quite a lot, allowing me to evade hits that I would've taken otherwise.

Not the mention that unleashing the _Thu'um_ for the first time actually caused the ghosts to converge on me. Fortunately Lydia and Falaere took advantage of the sudden distraction to strike back.

After the fight was over we could finally take the chance to sit down and take a breather. Only for a while though, because the whole ghost mystery was yet to be solved.

"There's nothing... nothing that might explain why the ghosts are haunting the crypt. We must've missed something..."

I was talking more to myself, yet Lydia readily supplied an answer. "There are stairs leading down right over there." She pointed at the open door to our left.

"Oh? I never noticed there was a-" I trailed off as I caught sight of a very familiar object on the far end of the hall.

Semi-circular shape, richly adorned with carvings, glyphs of the dragon language engraved into the cold stone... I would recognize it anywhere.

Everything suddenly grew dark.

Next thing I knew, my body moved on its own, standing up and slowly approaching the word wall.

One set of glyphs was glowing bright blue, as if coaxing me to come closer.

I didn't even think about it, I just walked towards the wall.

I didn't hear Lydia asking me what I was doing. I didn't see Falaere stare at me with wide eyes, her expression one of pure horror.

Like if the world around me simply disappeared... The sight of the word wall and the steady hum of the aura emanating from it simply drowned out everything else.

Even the rapid footsteps sounding right behind me.

I just kept walking... until the floor suddenly gave out under my feet.

* * *

Author's note: _Aaaaaand cliffhanger! Hahahahah oh I love doing that! ... Just kidding, not really :-D But it just seemed to be the right time to cut this chapter. I've noticed that when I'm in the process of writing the chapters end up far longer than I planned initially. Now I'm trying to exercise some restraint because too long chapter might be just as annoying as the too short ones. They can be pretty exhausting to read through, and the writer can have difficulties retaining the reader's attention with long chapters. For reader it usually goes like this: Too short is usually "Oh it's over? Already? That sucks, it was just getting good!" while too long goes like "It's over. Finally! Hooray!" You know what I'm saying?  
_

 _Anyway, I remember promising to update at least once a month. I'm glad that I can deliver, considering that I don't really have a good track record in keeping promises. Once my busy schedule clears up a bit, I'll update more often._

 _As always, thanks for reading, review, favorite or follow; compliments and/or critique always welcome :-)_

* * *

 _Edited on 7th June 2017 (a few typos corrected)_


	14. XIV) The enslaver of souls

Chapter 14 – The enslaver of souls

 _Farlas_

 _29th Last Seed, Whiterun hold, ruins of Ranngeir's Fast_

Just like if someone snapped their fingers, the mysterious power that clouded my mind and drowned out all my conscious thoughts suddenly disappeared. Alas, it only happened when the floor collapsed right below me so all I could do was helplessly watch the events unfold.

A large hole opened up right under my feet and swallowed me whole. I could see the gleam of water in the darkness below as I fell through the floor.

In hindsight, I knew this could happen. These old ruins are usually unstable and only few would hazard exploring them. If only it weren't for the damn 'word wall' and the strange power emanating from it that ensnared me I could've jumped away in time. But now, as I fell down the seemingly bottomless pit there was nothing I could do; only hope I'd survive the fall without breaking my limbs... or drowning.

What a great end for the Dragonborn of legend, falling to his death in some gods-forsaken ruin.

Now imagine my surprise when someone grabbed the back plate of my armor. The straps on my armor almost snapped when suddenly came to a hard stop.

"Help me, Lydia!"

Then another pair of hands hooked under my armpits.

"Come on, get him up!"

"Ugh... Fat bastard..."

 _Ouch..._ I winced at the insult that escaped the elf's lips. It's not my fault that the heavy armor adds to my weight. Added protection does come with some drawbacks.

After what seemed like an eternity I found myself standing on solid ground again.

It took me a few moments to regain my wits after my near-death experience. Once I did I became way too aware of the dirty look Lydia was giving me.

"What in Oblivion was that?!"

I winced once again at the sheer volume of her voice. The scream echoed throughout the ancient halls for a good few seconds. It was a small miracle that nothing came after us.

The housecarl breathed hard as she glared at me and it wasn't simply out of ire. It must've took her and Falaere some great effort to keep me from falling down the pit. Somewhere deep down I found the whole situation kind of amusing. It's not everyday a bodyguard shouts down their master.

What really surprised me was the way Falaere reacted to my 'accident'. I expected her to be angry, like Lydia was; one slip up and both of them would be falling down with me. Instead, she seemed worried... and, for some reason, _scared._

I looked back at my housecarl who was glaring at me, waiting for my response. Alas, I knew I'd probably further aggravate her since I had no good answer to her question. I mean, what could I say? That some malicious power hijacked my mind and kept me from thinking, the same way a thick fog keeps a traveler from finding the right path?

Then again, there was no better answer I could offer.

So, I told her exactly what happened, from my point of view, even though there was a chance she wouldn't believe me.

It turned out I gave my housecarl too little credit. Sure, she might've looked a bit sceptical for a moment but realized I wasn't joking around.

Falaere, on the other hand, looked deathly pale all of a sudden.

I couldn't take it anymore. She was acting strange ever since her excursion into the old crypt near Ivarstead. It was time to get some answers.

"Alright, I have to ask." I looked straight into her eyes. "What's the matter with you?" Before she could open her mouth I added. "And you're not dodging it this time."

A brief silence followed, broken by quiet "You wouldn't believe me."

"I'll be the judge of that." I snapped back. "Now spill it."

I could tell Falaere didn't really want to speak of her problems, whatever they were. She glanced at Lydia, no doubt pleading silently for help, but the housecarl just shook her head at her. Honestly, I didn't think she'd talk to us about whatever was plaguing her.

At least not until I heard a quiet "I've been having dreams."

Lydia raised an eyebrow. "That's nice and all but I don't see what does it have to do with the issue at hand."

Falaere shot her a dark look. "The only reason I'm even talking about it is because you made me to. So would you kindly shut up and let me finish?"

 _Sheesh, that girl was in a really foul mood..._

"Then by all means, continue." Lydia replied, not a hint of anger in her voice. "We're dying to hear whatever you have to say."

The elf glared at her for a few more moments and then continued speaking.

"As I was saying, I've been having dreams lately... The bad kind, that is. True, I did have bad dreams in the past but never were they so... vivid." She visibly shuddered. "Never did it happen that I was actually afraid of going to sleep because of nightmares. And... those dreams just didn't make any sense... or it didn't seem that way for me, until now."

"What do you mean by that?" I asked.

"Yesterday, I dreamt of watching you fall into a bottomless pit." She replied, looking straight at me. "Runes on a Word wall glowing red hot with some kind of unearthly power... a trapdoor opening right under you..."

There was a sharp hiss as Lydia suddenly drew breath.

And a moment later a sudden realization suddenly hit me like an avalanche.

"Wait, did you say trapdoor?"

Falaere nodded.

"She's right, my Thane."

I turned around to see Lydia standing at a large square shaped hole, too regular to be just a collapsed floor.

So it was true what the elf said. There was no cave in; I nearly fell into a very lethal trap and it was thanks to Falaere's quick reaction that I was still alive... but how would she know it would happen?

"The moment you suddenly started walking towards the Word wall, like if something dragged you towards it... it was exactly like it happened in the dream."

I vaguely remembered her running after me, moments before I stepped on the trapdoor... and the pieces of the puzzle fell into place.

"Wait a moment... are you saying that you're having visions?" Falaere just nodded guiltily and looked away. "Since when?"

"Better yet, why didn't you say something before we set foot into this damn place?" Lydia butted in. "We could've avoided all this!"

"How was I supposed to know that my nightmares were a glimpse of the future?" The Wood Elf cried out indignantly.

This was not the time for arguments. I decided to intervene before the exchange of opinions could turn into a shouting match. "She couldn't have known, Lydia." I pointed out.

The housecarl raised her hands defensively. "I didn't mean to insinuate she meant to put you in harm's way by keeping things back from us. But you have to admit: it's strange that only now did it all come out."

… Lydia brought up a really good point here, no sense in denying that. "Falaere," I looked at the visibly nervous Wood Elf. "When did you start having these 'visions'?"

"I- I'm not really sure."

"How so?" The way she sounded... Confused, almost hopelessly so... I couldn't put my finger on it but something about this whole situation felt odd.

"I've been having nightmares ever since Helgen... but I saw nothing in them that would eventually happen." She continued, her voice sounding unusually feeble. "It only got worse after we went into the crypt in Ivarstead..."

"That accident with the Word wall..." Lydia mused. "You think it might have something to do with this?"

"Well, it's a possibility we can't ignore." I muttered back. We never really learned what happened to Falaere in the Shroud Hearth Barrow. All we knew was that some mysterious power residing in the Word wall took hold of her and it knocked her unconscious.

"I don't remember what happened after I touched that wall." Falaere said. "Sometimes I'm having flashbacks and even then, what I see doesn't really make sense."

"You said you had a dream of me falling through a trapdoor." I reminded her. "When was it?"

"Just last night." She then hastily added. "But I had no idea it would actually happen. I thought it was simply a bad dream."

"Was there anything else?"

"Maybe...? I'm not sure..." She was struggling to recall whatever it was she saw in her dream. "I think- There was some kind of shadowy figure, dressed in all black... It was tall, with a hood over its face, a staff in one hand and a shock spell in the other." Her breath suddenly hitched. "It was looking at me... and I remember being really afraid for some reason."

Lydia frowned. "The way you described that person in your dream... It sounds like a warlock."

A warlock in a ruin that happens to be overrun by possessed ghosts... I didn't believe it was a coincidence. "Whoever this warlock is might be responsible for the disappearances."

"You really think we might find him here?" Lydia questioned.

"Maybe, maybe not. I still think it's worth looking into." I said. "If it really is the bastard who's been kidnapping the travellers, then we can't let him live."

"Do you even know what warlocks are capable of?" Falaere spoke up, a deep frown etched onto her face. "Once we confront him, we'll be in a fight for our lives; a single mistake and we'll be dead, or worse, _slaves!_ "

"You're giving the mages too much credit. Once their magicka's gone, they're easy targets." Lydia said plainly. Well, it wasn't untrue... _One just has to survive the spells._ "Plus, we have a Dragonborn on our side," The housecarl added. "That has to mean something."

Of course she had to bring _that_ up...

Falaere shook her head in obvious disbelief. "For a little more than a week..." She looked straight at me. "Do you really intend to try your luck against someone who can kill you before you can draw your blade... _or breath?_ "

She was afraid. I knew the feeling, more than I'd like to admit. But leaving the warlock alive and thus becoming accessories to next murders was out of the question. Not to mention what the Nords would think if the famed Dragonborn of legend ran from a battle...

"We're killing the warlock." I stated firmly. "No going back now."

"It seems I've been outvoted." Falaere remarked with a sour grimace. "I still think this is a terrible idea."

"Too bad, because we're not backing down." Lydia replied dispassionately. "If you're afraid, just wait outside. We're not forcing you to come with us."

"Not happening." The Wood Elf snapped back. "With no ranged capabilities, you'll never touch the warlock. You need an archer and a mage, even a mediocre one."

I saw a smirk tugging at Lydia's lips. "I'll take your word for it, elf."

"So," I looked around the ancient hall. "See any way out of here?"

"Over there!" Lydia called out and pointed at a gate to our left.

"Wait a moment." Falaere spoke up. "Maybe you'd like to take a look at that Word wall? Maybe you could learn something from it."

"Later," I replied. "We have a warlock to deal with first."

* * *

Getting deeper into the crypt was a more complicated task than we expected, due to a grating obstructing our way. We had to spend the next several minutes looking for a mechanism to raise the grating, and in the meantime we got jumped by another group of possessed specters. I was beginning to suspect the warlock somehow knew we were coming and sent his thralls to keep us from reaching him.

Once the obstacle was out of our way, the corridors led us to the lower levels of the barrow. To my surprise, we weren't jumped by the possessed ghosts on our way down. That could mean only two things: either the warlock was losing his strength... or we were in for a nasty surprise once we reached their lair.

Finally, after long stumbling around, we reached an entrance to what looked like a jail. The long hall before us had multiple cells along each side and on the far end it branched out in two separate ends. What caught my attention was a large pool of water enclosed by bars, right at the intersection. My first guess was that the prisoners did have the occasional option of bathing; that is, until I saw multiple corpses floating in the pool.

Falaere took notice of what I was staring at. "Look at those bodies." She whispered to me, pointing at the pool littered with corpses. "Blackened eyes, sunken cheeks, jaws open wide..." The elf must've had some really got eyes to distinguish such details. I barely saw anything from my current position... though I did notice that the unlucky fellows in the pool had pretty unhealthily colored skin.

A kind of purplish-grey... That's not what you see everyday, not even on corpses.

Like if she read my thoughts, Falaere quietly added "We're dealing with a necromancer, here."

The mystery of possessed spirits suddenly made sense... and I understood why Falaere was so afraid.

 _Shit..._

I could hear Lydia hiss a curse under her breath behind us. I thought it summed up our situation pretty aptly. Necromancers, the powerful ones, are _a pain_ to kill. It usually requires an overwhelming number of warriors to put just one down. And right now, there were just _three_ of us, while the warlock could summon the spirits he'd enslaved to help him out.

This was going to be a tough fight.

We began creeping down the hall with our blade drawn, wary of any suspicious noise. The place seemed empty... but that could change anytime.

"Maybe this place is deserted." Lydia thought aloud. "I mean, that warlock must've known that somebody was bound to investigate the disappearances sooner or later and moved somewhere else before he could be found out."

"Doubtful." Falaere shook her head and pointed at the cells. Some of them had dead bodies inside. "They must've died recently." And true, the prisoners, although in the same state as the corpses in the pool, showed no signs of decay. Though, judging by their various injuries, it was safe to say they were the warlock's test subjects.

Could it be that these poor sods were the ghosts we encountered and fought earlier?

"You really don't think he ran away?" The housecarl questioned.

"I think it would take a greater threat than us." I replied and looked at one of the dead prisoners. It was an orc, a huge one. "See this guy? He looks like he could take on a whole dozen of fighters and win." Seriously, the man had twice as big arms as I, and that was no stretch. "Yet he died... to our warlock, no doubt."

Falaere nodded briefly. "It definitely tells us just who we're up against."

In all honesty, at that point I had half the mind to turn tail and run away from that cursed place... But regrets were pointless; it was too late to back out.

"Maybe we should get a closer look at those cells, to check if there's anyone still alive." The elf went to investigate the cells in the prison.

"What's the point?" Lydia objected. "Everyone's dead!" Falaere didn't appear to be listening, however.

I glanced around the hall; just the three of us, no one else around. Still, I kept a firm grip on my sword, ready to start swinging in case the warlock came back.

Just like Lydia said, none of the prisoners were alive. Not a single captive was left unscathed; it seemed that whoever captured them liked to play with their victims before finally killing them. Many bodies were mutilated in a myriad of ways. A woman, a peasant judging by her clothes, had a hole the size of a plate burned into- no, _through_ her chest. Then there was a man in a Stormcloak garb that had his limbs burned to a crisp; I could actually see bones under the charred, blackened flesh. The rest of the carcass was strangely intact, though. There were many other gruesome sights that made my stomach heave.

One thing was clear as a day; we were dealing with a _gods-damned maniac._

Death was more preferable to whatever that madman had in store for us if he caught us alive.

Lydia's voice, laced with disbelief, suddenly cut through the hall's stale air. "There's one alive over here!"

Falaere immediately snapped at her in a hushed voice. "Not so loud, someone's gonna hear you!"

The three of us gathered before a cell where a half-bald greying man, probably in mid-sixties, lay on his side. He was wearing a yellow priest robe, filthy and tattered from years of use. Strangely, he had no insignias on him. The old man was trembling, like if he were suffering from fever... or skooma withdrawal. I saw no signs of injuries; it seemed the crazy warlock didn't get the opportunity to torture him yet.

"We need to get him out." I stated. It wasn't right to just leave the man to his fate.

"Now?" Lydia questioned. "Shouldn't we take care of the warlock first, my Thane?"

"Let's face it, there's a real possibility that we might not survive this fight. If we let the man out now, he just might have a chance to make it out of here alive." I looked at Falaere. "You're probably the most experienced one of us. You any good at picking locks?"

The elf seemed very surprised that I asked her that. "What gave you _that_ idea?"

"You spent 20 years travelling around; surely you must've picked up a thing or two."

For a few moments she just stared at me without a word. It made me think that maybe I touched upon a sensitive subject. Then, with an annoyed sigh, she reached into her satchel and pulled out a couple of lockpicks. "I'll see what I can do."

Lydia eyed the elf warily. "I didn't take you for a-" She didn't finish as Falaere shot her a nasty glare.

"Not. Another. Word!" The steely tone in her voice left no space for argument. Then she began working on the lock.

Lydia wasn't going to let this go, though. "It's a justified concern, my Thane." The housecarl whispered to me. "Why would an ordinary person even need lockpicking skills? To break into their own house just in case they lock themselves out sometimes?"

"And how should I know, Lydia?"

Falaere was too busy struggling with the lock to hear our conversation... or if she did hear, she then probably ignored it.

"What kind of people do you think would find it useful to break into forbidden places?"

I grabbed Lydia by the arm and took her aside to have a word with her. "I can see where this is going, Lydia." I said in a stern tone. "Do you think it's right to just jump to conclusions based on little to no knowledge?"

"I think it's right to be cautious." Lydia hissed back. "Lockpicking is a skill for thieves and personally I'm not comfortable with trusting a stranger with a possible criminal past with my life... or _your life,_ more importantly!"

Well, I could understand why Lydia would think that way. But in the brief time I'd known her, I'd never seen Falaere do anything even remotely criminal. "I think it's too early to pass any judgments, Lydia. We know nothing about her-"

The housecarl interrupted mid-sentence. "And that's a part of the problem: we know nothing about her! She never talks to us about herself, or whatever she did in the past!"

"Her history is her business; if she doesn't wish to talk about it I'm not about to pry."

"Well, maybe you should!" Lydia half-shouted at that point. "Because as long as I don't know just who I'm dealing with here, I'll never be able to-"

Then our conversation was suddenly brought to an abrupt end.

A huge fireball suddenly exploded just a few feet away from us. I found myself soaring through the air until I was stopped by a wall. Lydia was sent flying in the opposite direction. My armor saved me from any serious injuries. Still, the fire had singed my mostly unprotected arms.

Too busy exchanging opinions, we completely failed to see the warlock coming towards us.

Ignoring the dull pain in my back, I rolled over into a crouching position and unsheathed a short-sword. Greatsword would be useless in these enclosed spaces. I did my best to quell the rising panic; we were caught completely off guard.

Falaere grabbed her bow and hastily nocked an arrow. The door to the cell were open... and the prisoner was gone. I never noticed the old man slip out but there was no time to ponder on that right now.

Lydia was lying face down on the floor. She wasn't moving.

 _Shit..._ If she didn't survive this, I'd never forgive myself.

Only two of us stood against the incoming warlock. I didn't like our odds one bit.

"Well well, look who wandered into my lair!" A booming voice resounded through the halls.

There was a tall figure walking towards us. A man clad in black robes wielding a shock spell in one hand and a fire spell in the other. His skin was pale, almost unnaturaly so, and his head was almost completely shaved, leaving only a strip of long hair running along the top of his head.

And his expression was one of pure, mad elation.

"Not one, not even two, but _three_ unfortunate travelers!" He cackled and cast another fireball which I barely managed to dodge.

My armor was growing uncomfortably hot.

"You may have been smart enough to evade my trap but you know what they say: curiosity killed the adventurer! _HA!_ "

Falaere took aim and loosed an arrow. It flew through the gaps in the gate and hit its mark dead on...

… only to explode in a shower of splinters.

My first guess was a ward... but there was no shimmering layer of air, so typical for wards.

"It's an arcane armor!" Falaere cried. "My arrows will never punch through that!"

This was going south faster than I imagined.

"Switch to spells! Maybe that will hurt him!"

The elf fired off several firebolts in quick succession. Every single one of them was stopped by the warlock's ward.

 _Damn it... Maybe Falaere was right, maybe we should've left this damn crypt while we still had a chance..._

This madman had us cornered and we just couldn't stop him.

He shot a lightning bolt at Falaere who dived away from its path, barely evading it. "Ooh, a feisty one; she'll make a fine addition to my growing army of spectral servants!" The warlock laughed as he kept bombarding us with spells, steadily pushing us back.

It was impossible how he could just shrug off anything we threw at him. I couldn't get closer to him without being burned to a crisp and Falaere's spells and arrows did nothing but annoy him.

In a desperate move, the elf nocked _three_ arrows and released them all at once. All of them hit and the warlock's arcane armor flickered a bit.

 _Maybe we can put him down after all,_ I thought. _We just need to wear down his defenses... and keep him away from Lydia._ I didn't know if my housecarl was dead or just unconscious but there was no way I'd let this lunatic turn her into his slave.

Then suddenly our hopes faded.

Falaere got hit by a paralysis spell. Her body simply locked up when she was in the process of nocking another arrow. As if frozen in that particular moment, she tipped over and remained lying on her back.

I was the last one standing now.

I didn't know any offensive spells and while I wasn't a bad archer I certainly couldn't hope to ever match Falaere's skill with a bow. And since the warlock's attention was now fixed solely on me, my options were very limited.

So I did the only thing my panic stricken mind could think of. Leaning forward I pointed my blade at my seemingly invincible adversary. Just as the warlock was getting ready to cast another devastating fireball, I uttered a single word, loudly and clearly.

" _WULD!"_

The power of the Thu'um resonated within me and in a split second it propelled me towards the crazed warlock. The sorcerer was too surprised to react as I crossed the distance between us seemingly within a blink.

My sword cut hilt-deep into the warlock's stomach.

When I was learning to use the 'Whirlwind sprint' Shout, the main initial issue was to learn to properly maintain balance. Otherwise, I'd end up falling flat on my face every time I used the Shout. The rigorous training I was put through did pay off as I remained on my feet after I came to a halt.

The same couldn't be said for my foe, though.

The warlock was sent stumbling back and ended up sprawled on his back, blood pouring out of the stab wound in his stomach. I took a step towards the downed spellcaster, preparing to finish him off.

Alas, the warlock was far from done. Even with the gaping hole in his body, he sprung up and lobbed a fireball right in my face.

Only barely I managed to put up a ward, one of the basic Restoration spells my mother taught me. It shielded me from the most serious wounds but the force of the impact sent me flying back, again. I landed hard on my back and my sword clattered out of my grasp.

The warlock was staggering towards me, holding his wounded stomach. Instead of a mad grin, there was a livid expression on his face.

"YOU INSIGNIFICANT WORTHLESS MAGGOT!" The warlock raged, preparing another spell. I quickly scanned my surroundings for my sword. It lay just a few inches too far away from my reach.

"HOW DARE YOU TOUCH SILD, THE GREATEST SORCERER TO EVER WALK THE FACE OF NIRN, WITH YOUR FILTHY HANDS?!"

I tried to use an 'Unrelenting force' Shout but my throat suddenly locked up and not a sound came out. Arngeir warned me that this might happen but in my current situation I completely forgot about it.

"I THINK IT'S TIME I GAVE YOU SOME LESSONS ON DEFERENCE, YOU IMPUDENT CUR!"

The crazed sorcerer named Sild raised his hand to fire off another fireball.

It was at that moment when I saw the air behind him shimmer. I didn't know what it was or what was causing it. All I saw was another figure emerge literally from thin air, right behind Sild. In the next moment, the figure grabbed the warlock and _bit down on his neck._

I instantly recognized the tattered robes the person had on him. _The old man from the cell..._

The realization hit me, almost as hard as the fireball mere seconds earlier. _I freed a vampire._

The warlock's eyes went wide and his hands flew up to his chest where the vampire held him in a vice-like grip.

"NO! STOP IT! NOT _MY BLOOD!_ "

I was faced with a choice. Save the warlock or let the vampire drain him dry?

The sorcerer was clearly unhinged and he was simply too dangerous to be left alive. On the other hand though, he was currently the only one who could defeat the vampire. Because once the bloodsucker was done with the warlock, he'd likely go after us next... and I was in no shape to fight.

Burns on my arms and my face started to sting really badly.

The sorcerer eventually ceased struggling as the vampire drank away at his life force.

I dragged myself back to my feet and picked up my sword.

Moments later, Sild's body was dropped unceremoniously to the ground. All life was gone from the warlock's eyes and his skin was sickly white.

The vampire then looked straight at me.

I gritted my teeth and pointed my sword at the monster before me. "Come on, bastard. Come and get me!" I hissed under my breath, fully expecting the leech to lunge at me.

Imagine my surprise when the vampire tilted its head and snapped its fingers. Moment later it simply vanished without a trace. My eyes darted around the hall as I tried to find any signs of the damn thing sneaking up on me. _It's a trick... it has to be._

A minute had passed but no attack came.

 _Why didn't it attack me?_

There was no time to ponder on it now. I sheathed my blade and went to check on Lydia. I turned her carefully on her back and put my fingers on her neck. She was alive, to my immense relief. I turned away to check on Falaere only to find her walking towards us.

Once Sild the warlock was dead, the paralysis spell wore out.

"Is she alright?"

"She'll be fine." I replied. "I just need to heal the burns on her arms." I prepared a healing spell in my hands only to be stopped by the elf.

"Let me help."

I gave her a bewildered look. "Those burns don't look that bad, I can handle it."

Falaere shook her head. "You don't understand. It's harder to treat burns by arcane fire. You'll only wear yourself out and you have your own wounds to heal."

Did mother omit this fact when she taught me or I simply forgot? It didn't matter now. I let her help me with treating Lydia's wounds. It took longer than I expected but the burns healed nicely, leaving no scars. It helped that Lydia was still unconscious as we healed her; no doubt she'd protest against the use of magic, like most Nords.

After that was done I used whatever magicka I still had left to take care of my own wounds and then I went to look around Sild's lair.

Honestly, I was expecting to find a secret room filled with the warlock's failed experiments. Much to my relief, I didn't find anything. However, I did manage to find a tattered journal tucked away in a small bookcase. I only opened up the small book out of curiosity...

 _oOo_

 _4th of Evening Star, 4E 200_

 _It never ceases to amaze me how many fall for my simple trap. I may have to consider tweaking it a bit though. Many of them, in recent months, have been dying the second they hit the cage floor. Putting a foot or two of water in didn't help either. In fact, it may actually be making things worse. The last one to fall in broke both his arms and legs! He proceeded to float there and eventually drown. If it weren't for the water I would have had a great time twisting his mind until I decided to end him._

 _8th of Evening Star, 4E 200_

 _Captured another one... finally. It's definitely true that whatever these Orcs gain in size and strength they lose in mental capacity. I'm amazed they can even speak. He kept saying that when he gets out he'll break me in half like a twig... persuasive isn't he? Anyway, I told him that if he holds his head under the water for as long as this candle wick lasts I'd let him go free. Stupid thing drowned within minutes! I never tire of this._

 _13th of Evening Star, 4E 200_

 _I haven't captured a soul for days, and the last victim died on impact. Of course I was still able to reclaim his soul, but without the thrill of killing, or any kind of torture, the process lacks that special something. The reclaimed souls I've summoned make decent targets, but taking a mortal's life is so much more...sweet._

oOo

Needless to say, it was a mistake. I didn't have the stomach to read through all the entries. One glimpse into the sick twisted demented mind of Sild the warlock was enough.

Aside from a bit of coin stolen from his victims, there was nothing of value in Sild's hideout. Maybe except a strange box made of brass that had a strange eight sided deep red gemstone inside. It seemed to be _floating_ in the box. Maybe I could sell it off later... once I found out what exactly it was.

Shortly after I came back with the loot Lydia woke up. The housecarl was disoriented and was suffering from a pounding headache.

It took a bit of time to explain what happened while she was out cold.

That we almost died fighting a mad necromancer with overinflated ego and in the end we were saved by a vampire that we released from its cell, unknowing of its true nature.

Or more strangely, that the vampire just up and left instead of attacking after it snacked on Sild. We all agreed that it was strange indeed; it meant that we'd need to be more careful during our travels. Who knows, what if the bloodsucker ended up stalking us...?

"Let's just get out of here before another crazy wizard moves in here." Lydia grumbled, angry with herself for missing the fight.

"Yeah, we will." I nodded. "There's just one thing to do..."

* * *

Once again, I stood in front of the Word wall. This time, I took great care to evade the trapdoor. The mysterious power that possessed me earlier and almost led me to my death was still present, though it had no hold over me when I was actively fighting it back.

Lydia and Falaere lingered behind me and watched as I looked at the series of runes engraved in the monument. It was different from my first experience in the Bleak Falls Barrow. There was no explanation for it but now I could actually 'decipher' the Dragon language. The inscription said:

 _Het nok kopraan do Hela  
fahdon wah pah sivaas  
aar do kaan aal rek siiv unahzaal  
praan ko feykro do hahnu _

A shame I still didn't know enough of Dovahzul to translate it into common tongue. My thoughts were drawn to one particular set of runes, third one from the left, on the third line. It was glowing bright blue though my companions didn't see a thing...

 _Kaan..._ It seemed so familiar, as in that I should know the word but its meaning still escaped me. It was pointless trying to solve this little mystery when I had so little to go on. The glow suddenly faded and I felt like I gained something even though I couldn't really tell what...

No matter.

"You got anything yet?" Falaere spoke up, interrupting my chain of thought.

I turned away from the monument. "Yeah, I think so." I replied. Our work was done here; the warlock was dead and the road was safe, for now at least. We had other places to be.

"Let's go. We still have a long way ahead of us."

Our next stop: Morthal... and Ustengrav.

* * *

Author's note: _And here is the update, the one I promised you guys long ago but failed to deliver until now... I was occupied by college stuff and didn't have any time to write, not to mention the writer's block I had to deal with when I did have some time to work on the next chapter. Well, let's hope I can work with no more interruptions since the semester has ended._

 _Guest review from May 11: And I thank you for the compliment. It's always nice when someone tells me I'm doing something right :-) Gives me the fuel to keep going. And since you brought it up, personally it amazes me when someone who learned English as a second language has a better grasp on English grammar, spelling, and etc. etc., than a native speaker. I just don't get it.  
_

 _Guest review from June 3: Why thank you :D_

 _As always, thanks for reading, review, favorite or follow; compliments and/or critique always welcome :-)_


	15. XV) The Windcaller's rest

Chapter 15 - The Windcaller's rest

 _Saliyah_

 _Early morning of 29th Last Seed, Movarth's hideout, Hjaalmarch_

Originally we planned to leave Movarth's den as soon as it stopped raining. Alas, our plans had to be put on hold for a while. When I was scouting ahead I saw a large echelon of Imperial soldiers marching to the east, down the road south of Morthal. If we encountered such a force out there and they realized what we were... none of us would survive the fight, no matter how powerful we might be. The safest option was to wait for a few days and then move to the Rift, as we planned.

Theo wasn't happy about the prospect of being stuck in this cave any longer but, of course, he could do nothing about it. I had a feeling that he wanted to track down Vulpin as soon as possible and execute the slimy bastard in the most violent fashion imaginable. While I did understand his thirst for revenge because, in all honesty, I wanted to see Vulpin dead too, I wasn't about to take unnecessary risks.

Plus, as time went by, the three of us realized we weren't really inclined to leave the cave. Say what you will about Movarth but he really made sure that his followers were comfortable here. The part of the hideout where vampires resided was furnished really nicely, in a way you wouldn't expect from a cave. Alchemy lab, various kinds of furniture and dishware, a packed pantry... The place had everything we needed and more. Of course, the same couldn't be said about the quarters for thralls which only contained bare necessities.

Still, the place felt like home, even if it was just a dank old cave. Though we did have to get rid of the corpses first... it seemed that the residents of Morthal didn't dare set foot in here, even thought the place was abandoned and would likely be for some time.

We didn't feel like going anywhere but that didn't mean we were just laying about doing nothing. There were preparations to be made because it was quite a long journey to the Rift.

The alchemy lab had everything I needed to make another batch of sun resistance elixir. Making enough of the concoction for all of us kept me busy for quite a few hours. In the meantime, Theo tried to strike a conversation with Laelette. She still hadn't really become comfortable with being a vampire and she was a bundle of nerves in Theo's presence. To his credit, he didn't feel insulted by Laelette's reluctance to talk. The girl just needed a bit more time to get used to her company.

During our stay in Movarth's lair I also continued with Laelette's training. Since there were no living 'specimens' I could use to test her willpower, I had to make do with blood potions. It was too soon to draw any conclusions but I had a feeling that Laelette was slowly starting to gain a degree of control over her blood lust. It was three days since she last fed yet I saw no signs of 'withdrawal.'

We both knew this was nowhere near good enough, though.

In theory, there is a 'point of no return': a threshold beyond which every vampire is compelled to feed by any means necessary. In plain terms, it would snatch any mortal that got too close. In that state, any free will is replaced by vampiric instincts which command them to find 'food.' This situation is especially dangerous for young inexperienced half-breed vampires because they usually don't recognize the warning signs. And when they realize something is very wrong, it's usually too late. In most cases, those would inevitably succumb to their vampiric bloodlust and lose whatever was left of their mortal personality after they became vampires.

I couldn't allow this to happen to Laelette as well.

Theo also kept himself busy during the break. When he wasn't helping around the alchemy lab or doing maintenance on his blades and armor, he often ventured outside the hideout... and on one occasion, he surprised all of us.

It was yesterday evening. I was teaching Laelette about vampirism and the history of our kind when Theo barged into our quarters, dragging something heavy behind him. At first I thought he managed to cut down a stag; many commoners don't know this, but vampires usually won't turn down animal blood when there's nothing else available. So imagine my surprise when I took a look at his catch and saw _two High Elves_ gagged and tied up together. And these were no ordinary folk...

I don't know how he did it, but Theo managed to catch _Thalmor Justiciars,_ the infamous enforcers of the Aldmeri Dominion. They were haughty, fanatical and very dangerous... but not dangerous enough for a vampire, it seemed.

" _I saw their little group on the road. They were dragging a whole Nord family with them, all bound and gagged."_ Theo explained when I asked him about our 'guests'. _"I heard they were arresting Talos worshippers all over Skyrim, or in the territory held by Imperials, at least. I did notice earlier we were running low on blood potions and I thought to myself that I could liberate some oppressed Nords and snatch up a few of those damnable Thalmor as a cattle. Two birds with one stone!"_

The Thalmor captives began trembling in fright as they listened in on our conversation. Those smug bastards didn't look so high and mighty once they realized what kind of situation they were in.

" _I knocked two of them unconscious and killed the rest. The Nords didn't know I was a vampire, didn't even question me when I told them to run... I tied up these two and dragged them here. The others are rotting in the bushes as we speak."_

But honestly, Theo's attitude had me surprised. He wasn't the one to care about the plights of mortals. But I guess that anything could change in over two and half a century.

I let Theo deal with the captives and went to the alchemy lab to prepare ingredients. It took a few hours but after I finally finished we had quite a supply of blood potions, enough to last a month. Or two, if we used them sparingly. It meant there was no sense in lingering around. We'd set out today, travel at day as to remain inconspicuous.

Too busy brewing potions I didn't notice Laelette slipping out of the hideout.

It gave me quite a fright to realize the young vampire was gone. She was young, inexperienced; if someone attacked her she wouldn't last long. I searched every nook and cranny of Movarth's lair yet she was nowhere to be found. Thankfully I managed to catch her scent which led me outside.

There I saw her, sitting on a large boulder and looking towards Morthal, the town she lived in until Movarth Piquine came along and ruined everything for her.

The Moons shone through the dark clouds, illuminating the land with a pale light. Somehow it made the marsh look less dreary.

I approached the girl, carefully as not to startle her. If she heard me coming she showed no reaction, still keeping her eyes fixed at the sleeping town in the distance.

"Needed some fresh air?"

Laelette nodded mutely though she didn't look at me.

I sat beside her on the boulder.

"Look, I know you wouldn't just sneak away from us but I need to ask you not to go anywhere alone until I can properly train you, alright?"

She nodded again, without a word. It was getting frustrating, trying to get through to her when, for some reason, she refused to speak to me.

"Laelette, if there's something wrong, I can't help you when you won't talk to any of us."

For a few moments, a dead silence reigned between us. At that point, I just considered giving up.

But then I heard her say "It's quite a view."

I raised an eyebrow, prompting her to continue. And she did.

"Before all this... I used to help around Lami's alchemy shop. Sometimes we would go out in the swamps to pick up ingredients. Benor would come with us because Jorgen, Lami's husband wouldn't let us go out there alone. We'd only do this at a daytime. At night, no one would dare come to the marshes... Well, no one except that wizard, Falion."

I just let her talk without saying a word. When she mentioned the name 'Falion', I couldn't help it but think of its bearer, the Redguard sorcerer who helped me fight Movarth and his brood. _I wonder how's he doing now...?_

"This is the first time I ever saw Morthal like this... At night, from far away, the fires burning on the streets, the guardsmen patrolling around with torches in their hands... It's captivating."

"Feeling nostalgic, perhaps?"

Laelette heaved a deep sigh. "Like you wouldn't believe..."

"Is this why you snuck out of the cave? For a trip to Morthal?" I asked, carefully watching the younger vampire.

Her head snapped towards me.

"What? No! I didn't-" She wouldn't fool me, though. I can tell when people, even vampires, lie. Seeing the look on my face, Falaere began sputtering a bit. "A- Fine, I- I did think about it, I wanted to go b-but-" The girl hung her head in defeat. "It was a bad idea, I knew it, but- I thought I could at least say goodbye."

 _Oh... So that's what this is all about..._

I suppose we both knew the meaning of loss. Laelette was luckier than I because her loved ones were still alive. Almost all of my close friends died when Anthotis clan was destroyed.

"So you wanted to see your man... Thonnir, was it?" She nodded. "And you mentioned having a son, right?"

"Virkmund... He'll be six next month." Laelette remained quiet for a moment. When she spoke again, I heard palpable grief in her voice. "When I left Morthal with you, I thought we'd never come back... and I was fine with that. But when our journey brought us here, just a few steps from my home, I can't help it but think about what I lost. I know it was stupid, that I'd be putting everyone in peril with my sheer presence but..." Her breath hitched. "I wanted to see them one last time..."

I put my arm around her and drew her closer, letting her weep into my shoulder.

"One day, Laelette." I whispered. "One day..."

* * *

 _Farlas_

 _30th Last Seed, Hjaalmarch, en route to Morthal_

I can quite honestly say that never in my life have I been so glad to leave a Nordic crypt. Our fight with Sild the warlock left me more than just 'a little shaken'. That lunatic nearly suceeded in killing us all. If this nerve-racking experience told me anything, it was that whatever training I had now wouldn't be enough to face whatever else the world had in store for me.

It was getting dark by the time we got out of that blasted place so we decided to camp near the entrance for the night. Lydia still wasn't feeling very well after being knocked out in the fight, though she did her damnedest to hide it. We had quite a trek ahead of us and I didn't want her to overexert herself... not to mention that travelling at night was far more dangerous in the wilds.

The next morning (only two weeks after I crossed the borders to Skyrim in Pale pass) we set out to the Cold Rock pass, a dark tunnel through the mountain above the Nordic ruins. It was the only shortcut to Morthal; the next shortest path led to the north through Rorikstead, along the Chillwind river and then curve back to the east. That route was easily twice as long.

The Cold Rock pass certainly did live up to its name. The walls of its tunnels were covered in a layer of thick ice and, just like on Seven thousand steps, Falaere needed all available furs to stave off the chill. Though the pass was the shortest way to Morthal from Rorikstead, the guards discouraged us from travelling through there.

For a good reason it seemed... A pack of Frost trolls settled inside the tunnels; the smell gave them away from way ahead. Three big, hairy and butt-ugly bastards; no doubt it was from feeding on travellers they got so fat. We already encountered their kind on our way to High Hrothgar so we already knew how to get rid of them.

Fire was the key.

And for once, I had an ample opportunity to try out my Shouts in combat. With two Words of power, the 'Unrelenting force' was far more powerful than before; though it wasn't enough to send the damn beasts flying, I did succeed at knocking one of the trolls right on its rear end and slicing its head off while it was disoriented.

When the fight was over, the pass was safe again, though I couldn't really say for how long.

As we'd soon find out, we didn't meet our daily quota of ugly surprises, though.

As soon as we made it out of the pass, Lydia suddenly screamed "DRAGON!"

I quickly turned my eyes towards the sky... and sure enough, there was a large winged shadow circling above us. It looked awfully similar to Mirmulnir, the dragon from Whiterun watchtower, except its scales were even duller in color.

Our first thought was to hide and wait until it flew away. It noticed us as soon as we left the Cold Rock pass, however... almost as if it _knew_ we'd go through there. I had no time to think about that, though, not when the damn lizard rained fire on us.

Since there were only three of us, I thought we wouldn't survive the battle. It showed soon that this particular dragon was even weaker than Mirmulnir; even then, its power was nothing to laugh at. I found myself singed a few times when I didn't put my ward up in time. Falaere nearly got snatched up in its jaws after scoring too many hits with her bow. And after we finally forced it to land, the dragon smacked Lydia around with its tail.

The dragon bloodied us well, but in the end it fell to the combined strength of our blades and Falaere's spells.

As the creature's carcass went up in flames, I braced myself for the moment when its soul entered me. The last time this happened I blacked out. Now I only felt a brief surge of dizziness before everything went back to normal. At first I thought that I might be getting used to absorbing souls... on the other hand, though, the memories I received with the dragon soul were... chaotic, fragmented, even incomprehensible, at times. I didn't even learn the dragon's name.

 _When I make it back to High Hrothgar I need to ask Arngeir some more about the dragon lore..._

The nameless dragon's sufficed for understanding the word _Kaan_ which I read in the crypt where the sorcerer Sild was hiding. It meant 'Kyne', as in the goddess Kynareth, though it went a little beyond just _that._ I saw the vision of the sky and the land, like if seen from a bird's perspective. It didn't make much sense at first but I supposed I simply needed more time to fully understand.

Since the dragon was out of the way, we could continue to Morthal, but not before taking care of our wounds. Both Falaere and I knew the basic healing spells so we were a picture of health in the matter of minutes. It was a bit more difficult in Lydia's case, though. The housecarl was a proud Nord warrior and not only she knew nothing about magic but refused to even entertain the notion of us using our spells on her. Only a qualified healer was allowed to 'magic' her. We realized too soon it was pointless to argue with her and let her gulp down a few potions and wait for them to do the trick.

It's a good thing she didn't know we did heal her with magic before, while she was out cold...

* * *

It was a few hours past noon when we made it to Morthal.

The town appeared rather crumbly for a Hold capital. It consisted of several wooden buildings built along a small bay, enclosed in between a large formation of rocks on one side and a large foggy marsh on the other. A sawmill was situated on the far side of the town, across a bridge. The town offered little past the basic necessities, such as a trader's shop, a blacksmith's workshop, an apothecary and an inn. The people around here, guards, commoners, workers, even soldiers from a local Imperial outpost, they all seemed rather jumpy. I'd be lying if I said the gloomy atmosphere around the town didn't leave me restless.

Remains of a burned down house near the inn were no help in that regard.

I stopped a guard that just happened to be walking by. "Excuse me, what's the story behind the burned down house?" True, it was none of my business... but the curiosity got the better of me, I admit.

"Ah, you mean Hroggar's house?" The guardsman replied, kind of confused as to why a couple of strangers would bother asking him something. "There was an, um, _incident_ about a week ago. An arson mixed in with a vampire plot to take over the town... or that's what Gorm told us."

 _Um... what?_

"Arson and vampires?" Lydia frowned. "That doesn't seem to blend well together."

The guardsman snorted. "You tell me, lass. I was off duty that night but from what I've heard, it was a pretty strange case. Still, you should ask the guys that were actually there instead of wasting my time."

I didn't miss the hint of irritation in his voice. "Alright then, I won't keep you. Though... Who should I talk to if I wanted to know more about this _incident?_ "

"Like I said, try Gorm, the housecarl to Jarl Idgrod, or Aslfur, her steward and husband. There's also Benor, the sellsword and a bouncer in Moorside Inn, and the lads from the town guard; Odrin, Nils, Gronnir, or about every commoner in Morthal." And with that, he walked off.

"What a nice gentleman." Falaere muttered sarcastically.

"And you blame him?" Lydia retorted. "Guard duty is a thankless job, sometimes."

 _Yeah, I could imagine..._ Walking around the city for hours while absolutely nothing was happening, except a thievery here and a drunken brawl there... what a life, ain't it?

"We should ask around about Ustengrav." I suggested. "The locals might know where that is."

"You think any of the commoners might know?" Falaere questioned. "They have enough of their worries; I don't think they'd care about some gods-forsaken old ruins."

"They might point us to somebody who knows." I took a long look at the run-down inn before us. "Like the innkeeper; they usually know all about what happens around."

"I suppose it's worth a try." Lydia shrugged.

Since there were no objections, we walked into the tavern... and very soon became witnesses to a rather peculiar conversation.

"Jonna, do you think the townspeople are warming up to my serenades?" A person holding a lute spoke to a Redguard woman in an inkeep's garb. There wouldn't be anything wrong with that sentence... if the person speaking it were anything but an _Orc._

"No, they ain't." The woman named Jonna, presumably the innkeeper, shot back rather crossly. "And they aren't gonna. If you weren't paying for your room, I'd have thrown you out a long time ago."

"An Orc bard..." Falaere muttered to herself, consternation clear in her voice. "And when I thought I'd seen it all..."

The Orc scoffed. "Yes, but they'll come around eventually. You shall see."

"I shouldn't be surprised when they come 'round," Jonna muttered as the 'bard' walked off. "And you're never seen or heard from again..." If the Orc heard the last comment, he seemed to ignore it.

That looked like a scene from some badly written comedy, if I can say so myself. However, as sensational as it might seem, an Orc bard was the last thing to interest me.

"Now that was a pretty strange sight." I said to the inkeeper as I approached.

Jonna gave me a strained smile. "Oh, you heard that? That was Lurbuk. He fancies himself a bard," She grimaced like if the word burned her tongue. "But he pays, so I let him stay. If I had any customers I'd be worried about him annoying them but, well... _Look around._ "

True to her word, the inn was completely empty. Besides Jonna, Lurbuk the bard and some brawler in a worn iron armor, there was no one around.

"Business that bad in Morthal?" Lydia joined the conversation.

Jonna laughed humorlessly. " _Bad_? It just ain't there at all! Few enough reasons to pass through Morthal before the war started. Now... let's say the front door doesn't get much use." The Redguard shook her head. "And with the things happenin' lately, it's only gonna get worse."

"Does that have anything to do with that burnt down house right outside?" I asked.

"Oh that? That was an ugly affair indeed... But stranger things happened right after." The innkeeper explained. "Someone set aflame Hroggar's house in the dead of the night, with his wife and kid inside. They would've burned to death if a stranger didn't happen by and get them out."

"That doesn't sound so terrible. I mean, they survived, right?" Falaere said.

Jonna frowned. "It didn't end there. The fire drew in every guardsman in the town. When they got there they saw the stranger fighting the arsonist." She lowered her voice. "Both of them were _vampires._ "

…

Wait, what?

Since when would a vampire bother saving people from the fire, if not to feed on them afterwards? And why would it fight its own kind?

My mind wandered back to the vampire I encountered in Sild's hideout. It had a perfect chance to finish me off... but it didn't, for some strange reason.

Yup, the world has gone truly insane.

"The guards went to kill them both but Hroggar's girl, Helgi, stopped them. She said the other one _saved her._ "

"I-" Lydia looked completely bewildered. "I don't understand."

"Neither do I, honey." Jonna chuckled weakly. "Anyway, the commotion woke up even Jarl Idgrod and her husband. Imagine the surprise when the Jarl didn't have the bloodsuckers killed on spot; she brought them in for questioning."

This story was getting more interesting as it went on...

"What happened then?" Falaere asked, prompting Jonna to continue.

"I only know what my brother Falion told me. He's a local court wizard and he was there when the Jarl questioned the vampires. It turns out there was a vampire plot to take over Morthal; some ancient vampire gathered a whole coven in a cave just north of here... and no one knew about it until now."

 _Well damn..._ I've never heard of vampires trying to do something so... _brazen_ before.

"Worse, he had sleeper agent right in our midst: Alva, a local wench. We thought she was just a harmless trollop... but she turned Thonnir's wife, Laelette, into a vampire, seduced Hroggar and then she ordered Laelette to kill his wife and kid! If the other vampire didn't show up when she did, we'd all be vampire food by now!"

"Does that mean the vampires were taken out?" I asked carefully.

Jonna nodded. "You wouldn't believe it but that vampire actually offered to take care of the problem, or that's what Falion said. And Idgrod allowed her to, but she had to take Falion with her. I didn't even know about all that until he told me... But anyway, he and that vampire marched into the cave and killed everyone inside. Falion told me that she could've cut them all down herself!"

So the Jarl didn't entirely trust her when she sent her court wizard to accompany her, I thought to myself. Still, this was quite a tale... it it was true, of course.

"An altruistic vampire... never thought I'd hear that." Lydia scoffed.

"You can't deny that Morthal would be doomed if it weren't for her." Falaere pointed out.

"Yeah, that much is true. It's just a shame it wasn't a happy end for everyone." Jonna sighed. "Hroggar died after Alva kidnapped him and fed him to her masters. Laelette ran away with the other vampire after this terrible affair was over. Thonnir and Elsod lost their spouses, Virkmund lost his Ma, Helgi her Pa... At least that bitch Alva got what was coming to her."

Just a small comfort, though...

"I'm sorry to hear about the losses. Though it could've been far worse." It was time to change the topic. "Say, Jonna, wouldn't you happen to know where the fane of Ustengrav is? Me and my companions were looking for this place; it's supposed to be somewhere nearby and we thought you might know..."

"Eh, I don't leave Morthal if I don't have to; that's just asking for trouble." Jonna replied. "You should ask Falion; he knows the marsh better than most of us."

Well, it's still better than what we had before. A Redguard wizard is hard to miss in a town full of Nords...

"Alright, thank you for your help. It's time we were on our way." I turned towards the exit but Jonna's voice stopped me in my tracks.

"Hey, what's the hurry?" I saw the strange glint in the inkeeper's eyes. She was angling for something, I couldn't point out what it was, though. "I know it ain't none of my business but if you are really dead set on traipsin' around some dusty old ruin, surely you don't plan on doing that with empty bellies?"

Suddenly I understood. This inn hasn't seen a proper customer for... how long? Weeks? _Months, even?_ And now, when suddenly a group of travelers walked in... One would be a fool not to take advantage of that.

Well, I didn't see anything that could stop us from enjoying the local hospitality.

I glanced at my companions. "I don't know." I shrugged. _"Do we?"_

* * *

 _Lydia_

An hour or so had gone by before we finally left Morthal. I didn't like the place; it was wet, humid and it had a strange, gloomy air around it. Still a better place than the large stale swamp we had to wade through.

The warm meal in the Moorside inn was unexpected, but it was a pleasant change against salted meat, dried fruits and whatever we could pick up on the road. The inkeep was elated to have a real customer for once, because let's face it, in these times no one had a reason to travel to Morthal, except the few special cases like us. Just as we were about to leave the inn after lunch, the court wizard, Falion happened to walk inside. It saved us from the inconvenience of having to search the town looking for him. And the inkeep wasn't wrong about the wizard knowing the area like the back of his hand.

" _Cross the bridge over the river and then continue north-east. Ustengrav is located just at the edge of the swamp; quite an inconspicuous location, could easily be mistaken for a burial mound. Be very careful when you descend down there, though; places like these are notorious for its restless dead."_

Oh joy, the infamous Draugar. The kind of thing you scare your kids with when they're being naughty. But I guess it could be worse; I mean, a walking corpse is nothing compared to a dragon.

It took us about an hour to find the old crypt and the marsh did everything in its power to slow us down. We did our best to avoid the water but sometimes it couldn't be helped. More than once I found myself sinking knee-deep into the mud; so did the Dragonborn- _Thane Farlas,_ damn it. I know he forbade me from calling him any of those two titles but sometimes my tongue just slips.

The elf scouted ahead and not once she stumbled or got stuck in the swamp's soaked unstable soil, unlike us.

Just like Falion said, the entrance to Ustengrav looked very much like a burial mound, distinguished only by stairs leading to a heavy door below the ground level. And as our luck would have it, there was a small band of necromancers digging around. Good thing the elf took them down before they saw us coming.

"So, this is it." Thane Farlas exclaimed as he looked around the entrance, toying with the pommel of his sword. "I really hoped I wouldn't have to do another round of dungeon delving."

"You're not the only one." The elf muttered. Was it just me or did she actually shiver?

"You know, no one says you have to go down there with me."

"After the mess with that madman Sild? No way I'm staying behind; what if you find something even worse down there?"

For once I was inclined to agree with the Wood Elf. Not to mention it was my duty to follow the Dragonborn wherever he went.

 _Damn it, I did it again..._

"I know the Greybeards didn't mention it but," My Thane mused. "Isn't it cheating to bring people with me? Aren't I supposed to do it alone?"

"They didn't explicitly forbid you from bringing followers, that's all what matters." I pointed out. "Your trial doesn't lie in a simple show of brute strength." Personally, I didn't see the point in retrieving this old artifact, this 'Horn of Jurgen Windcaller'. But what do I know? I'm just a housecarl; it's not my place to question the ways of the Greybeards.

Thane Farlas gave a slow nod. "You might have a point, Lydia." Heaving a sigh, he turned to the entrance. "Enough banter. Let's go get the horn."

* * *

Contrary to what I initially thought, Draugar weren't our only problem inside Ustengrav. First we had to cut our way through several necromancers. No doubt that filth came here to enslave the dead to do their bidding... or they were after the same thing as us. Either way, we couldn't let them live. It was an easy undertaking with the Wood Elf on our side. I didn't really trust that woman but she had a deadly aim, I had to give her that much.

I had my reasons to be suspicious of this 'Falaere'. She didn't really talk about herself and from the little I heard she was some sort of vagabond, spending last several years on the road. Neither did she mention what did she do for living. Odd jobs? Hired muscle? _Thievery?_ Plus she had absolutely no reason to stick with us. Nothing kept her from going her own way after the battle with that dragon. Yet she was still here.

Falaere was an unknown and did absolutely nothing about it. Then there was the matter about her 'visions'. No idea what to make of that...

And as for my Thane, he was a curious person indeed, and not only because he became a nobleman by a sheer chance. He still insisted on me not calling him 'Thane' or 'Dragonborn' in public. At first I found it strange; who would pass on a chance to flaunt being a Dragonborn nobleman in public? Only after days of travelling together I got a glimpse of the person he was. Just an ordinary man destined for something extraordinary. _"I'm nothing special, or I thought so, at least."_ He told me a few days ago. _"But it seems the gods are dead set on proving me otherwise."_

However, where anyone else would just shrink away from this newfound power and the load of responsibilities that came with it, Farlas did try to somehow cope with it. Like travelling halfway across Skyrim to find an ancient artifact when he could've as well run somewhere far away. Plus, not many could take on a dragon and win, even with some help. He showed his qualities as a competent fighter in the little time we travelled together as well as the knowledge of Restoration, about the only school of magic I respected. A very useful combination of skills, many might say.

Making our way through the hallways of the old crypt took quite a long time when the Draugar kept getting in our way. But we made progress nonetheless and eventually we made it into a huge cavern; a stony arch spanned across the chasm with a small pond on the bottom. On both sides of the natural bridge there were old Nordic constructs carved into the rock. Except a few walking skeletons, there was no obstacle in our way.

Thane Farlas noticed another 'Word wall' on the bottom of the chasm and he became instantly drawn towards it. He explained to me that the writings on those walls contained Words of power, a key to learning Thu'um... and reading those could prove taxing to one's mind, as I saw it back in Sild's lair.

After crossing the bridge, we were confronted by a sort of puzzle consisting of three stones with an image of a dragon engraved in them and a set of three gates. None of us knew what to do and it seemed we were stuck... until my Thane approached one of the stones.

It instantly glowed bright red and one of the gates opened.

 _Was this the trial the Greybeards talked about?_

Farlas figured out quickly what he was supposed to do. He sprinted past the stones which all lit up as he got near them and shortly before the gates he used the Thu'um to propel himself forward at an impossible speed. My ears were ringing from that Shout for a while afterwards... The gates remained open after he made it through which allowed us to follow him.

A shame this wasn't the end of our troubles...

For the next hall was not only half caved in but also filled with pressure plates. One wrong step and a gout of flames would roast us alive. I thought there was no way past the traps, that is until we noticed that nozzles on some plates were clean, not blackened from fire. I decided to take the risk and stepped on it.

To my immense relief, nothing happened.

Thanks to this discovery, we managed to get past the pressure plates in one piece. Though on the way through the hall, we had to exterminate a nest of Frostbite spiders and their overgrown mother. It was the first time I noticed my Thane showing something resembling fear... which he promptly masked with wild, almost reckless fury. I understand one might find it funny that a Dragonborn of legend is afraid of spiders, even if they're the size of a horse but since he didn't freeze or run away, I wasn't about to judge.

After all we had to deal with while making our way through the Ustengrav temple, it was a relief to finally see our destination: the tomb of Jurgen Windcaller. From the entrance, stairs led down to a walkway with pools of water on either side; the walkway ended straight at a huge, richly adorned sarcophagus with the statue of a hand rising from its lid. As we walked towards the sarcophagus, the ground beneath us began shaking and four statues, vaguely resembling dragons, rose from the water.

 _They must've reacted to the presence of a Dragonborn..._

"Look at that hand..." Falaere said, pointing at the sarcophagus. "It looks like if it's supposed to hold something."

Her remark stopped Thane Farlas in his tracks. "You don't think that..."

The elf nodded curtly. "Where else would the horn be, if not in the hand?"

I began scanning the hall. There was nothing resembling a horn nearby.

"Could it be inside that coffin?"

I was about to tear into the elf for that impossibly outrageus idea (we're not graverobbers, for Talos' sake!) but my Thane beat me to it. "I don't think Arngeir would place it _inside;_ I mean, breaking into the tomb of the Greybeards' founder? That's so... disrespectful."

"So you're saying- what, exactly? There is no horn?" The Wood Elf argued. "I don't believe that!"

Thane Farlas didn't seem to be listening, though. He stared at the stone hand... then he reached out and picked something off of it.

It was some kind of note.

My Thane unfolded the piece of paper... and his face contorted into a infuriated scowl.

" _Dragonborn, I need to speak to you; urgently."_ He read aloud. _"Rent the attic room at the Sleeping Giant inn in Riverwood, and I'll meet you. A friend."_

In that moment, I was stunned... and that doesn't happen to me often.

 _The horn was stolen? HOW?! This place was locked up tighter than the Imperial treasury! How did they get inside? And how did they know we'd be coming? Or that Farlas was the Dragonborn?! Who were those thieves? And what in Oblivion did they want with him?!_

So many questions, yet so few answers...

"A friend?" Falaere intoned. "Not only they send us on a goose chase, but they have the gall to mock us as well?"

Thane Farlas crumpled the note in his hand and tossed it onto the floor. He was doing his best to appear calm and collected but the stormy look in his eyes betrayed his anger.

"Well, as much as I hate admitting it, getting angry won't solve this problem." He said resolutely. "We need to go to Riverwood and have a word with our 'friends'."

Then, in a tight and very quiet voice, he added "And they better have a damn good reason for this."

* * *

Author's note: _Uh oh... You don't get to mess with the Dovahkiin and hope to get away scott free. Delphine is going to get an earful... Anyway, I got this update out a lot faster than I thought I would. Let's hope I can keep this up. :-P_

 _To_ Dragon Man 180: _Oh, you've been paying attention, then? :-D Yes, the vampire that snacked on Sild was the one mentioned in the chapter 13: the ex-priest of Arkay from Leyawiin. He'll play a pretty big role later on in the story, that's all I can say now. As for Sild, I usually just snipe him with my bow; seeing the almighty corpsehumper keel over with an arrow in his head is pretty rewarding too XD_

 _Guest review from June 12: Why thank you :-) Yeah, Falaere tends to be like that. And yeah, she and Farlas will grow closer over time (it's a given when they travel together round Skyrim), but a pairing? Let's not get ahead of ourselves LOL It's a long way to killing Alduin, after all.  
_

 _As always, thanks for reading, review, favorite or follow; compliments and/or critique always welcome :-)_


	16. XVI) Goose chase

Chapter 16 – Goose chase

 _Falaere_

 _Evening of 30th Last Seed, Hjaalmarch, en route to Morthal_

Our trip back from the Ustengrav crypt went in an uncomfortable silence. No wonder, we had to brave many dangers and misfortunes during our task to find the horn of Jurgen Windcaller. Well, it was more Farlas' task really, but that is beside the point. Our search proved to be fruitless as someone, _somehow,_ snuck into the seemingly impregnable crypt and stole the horn right under our noses.

Although he took a great care not to show it, I could tell Farlas was _livid._ It showed during an unexpected scuffle with a pack of wolves on our way back to Morthal; he put way too much force into his attacks and the kills were _messy_ , lot of blood and mutilated bodies. At least he didn't think of using the Voice; I don't think there would be much left of the poor beasts then. Lydia the housecarl was pretty annoyed about our wasted trip but, as a true professional, she kept her feelings on the matter to herself.

And me?

True, I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel even slightly angry... but my mind was otherwise occupied.

Ever since the dragon attack at Helgen I felt, well, conflicted. To put it in plain terms, I was wondering just why exactly I stuck with the Imperial that turned out to be a 'Dragonborn', the hero from nordic legends. I mean, I could've left his side anytime I wanted. I know I didn't exactly have 'places to be', for the last twenty or so years, all I did was wander around Tamriel doing more or less shady jobs to earn money, never to stay in one place for too long... all of that in an effort to stay away from home, where there is nothing left for me anymore.

But anyway, the point is I could've gone anywhere I wanted. No one said I needed a company to travel around. But... I still stayed with the same man that got captured and nearly executed by Imperials, just as I did. Honestly, I planned to go my own way after we delivered the warning to Jarl Balgruuf in Whiterun. But, for some odd reason, I didn't refuse the task to retrieve the Dragonstone from the Bleak Falls barow. Later on, I found myself wondering quite often why, though never coming to any good answer.

It changed with my 'accident' in the Shroud Hearth barrow and the visions that came later on.

I didn't know what kind of magic I came upon, but it was definitely powerful... and _ancient._ Of course, it had to be since it knocked me out cold for over half a day. The strange dreams I'd been having afterwards were another thing entirely. For a time I thought they were just nightmares. That was until a few days ago when I witnessed Farlas fall into the trap Sild the warlock laid for unwary explorers inside the old crypt.

It was incredibly horrifying since I saw the same thing happen in one of my recent dreams.

Ever since that event, the nightmares stopped. It provided no relief though, since the strange feeling that kept me from parting ways from the Dragonborn still persisted.

Almost like if some invisible force was trying to guide my steps...

There was no explanation for whatever compelled me to stay at his side. One might call it a hunch... but it felt eerie, as if some of the thoughts coming to my mind weren't even my own. At the very least it meant I wouldn't get a peaceful sleep for some time.

An hour of wading through the marsh later and we found ourselves back in Morthal. Our plan was to stay overnight and then continue to Riverwood the next day. Farlas was 'looking forward' to meeting the mysterious horn thief, though not in the positive, cordial way. There was no way of knowing how that chat would end. A shouting match? A few broken bones? Or something worse? I really hoped our Dragonborn could rein in his temper, otherwise the whole business could get ugly.

Passing the lumber mill, we crossed the bridge and headed to the Moorside inn.

 _Jonna will jump at the chance of earning some coin,_ I thought. _Gods know there's little chance of doing that around here._

Farlas rounded the corner of the tavern and, still busy seething over the horn theft, failed to see a young boy crossing his path.

The Dragonborn stopped abruptly as the child collided with his chest. While he was completely unaffected by the impact, the boy literally bounced off and fell flat on his ass with a surprised yelp.

Farlas knelt down to the boy, all his previous anger forgotten within an instant. "Are you okay, kid?"

"Oh- Nothing happened, I'm okay... sort of..." The boy looked up at the person that had plowed into him and suddenly trailed off. There was a long moment of silence as he stared at the adult before him with what could only be described as curiosity.

Farlas was becoming unnerved by the staring. "Is something wrong?"

As if things couldn't get any stranger, the boy said with an eerily blank expression "You're different, aren't you? Not like anyone else. Not in Morthal, or Skyrim."

For some reason, I felt chill running down my back. Even more so when the boy turned his attention to me.

"You see things, like me... But I don't understand any of it." I swore it felt like if he was actually looking _through_ me.

Lydia glanced at the strange kid, then at me, and shook her head in bewilderment. Farlas was at a loss of words.

 _Just what in Oblivion was this about?_

Then a female voice rang out, interrupting the bizarre moment.

"Joric!" That instantly snapped the boy out of his trance.

A tall young woman approached, wearing a simple peasant dress. Regarding us with an apologetic look, she made a beeline for Joric.

"I'm sorry about Joric," She apologized, ushering the boy aside. "He usually doesn't bother other people like this."

To his credit, Farlas recovered quickly. "No, it's quite alright. I bumped into your son by accident as we walked to the inn."

The woman stared at him in bemusement before she suddenly chuckled. "Son? No, he's actually my brother."

This made me pause. She's Joric's _sister?_ I know looks are often deceiving but she did appear old enough to be the boy's mother.

"Really? Sorry, I didn't mean to assume." Farlas said once he realized his mistake. "Don't take it as an insult but your brother is certainly a... _curious_ character."

Joric seemed to completely ignore the conversation, even when it was about him.

"Joric heard worse things than _that._ " The woman replied. "Gorm called him mad on several occasions, but he isn't! Well, not really."

Out of politeness I remained silent. But it was clear that there was something odd about the kid that clung to his sister's side.

"He's just... sensitive, I guess." She continued, stroking the boy's back affectionately. "He has trouble focusing his attention on things. We were taking him to the Temple of Kynareth in Whiterun, just so the healers would make sure he's in good health, and they say he's fine. I wrote a letter for Danica, the head priestess in the Temple but didn't get the chance to send it." There was a hint of helpless anger in her voice. "Seems everyone, including the couriers, avoids this town, thanks to this blasted war. And the vampire menace a week ago didn't help any."

"Yeah, we heard about that; an ugly affair, that's for sure." Farlas nodded sympathetically. "Say, I could deliver the letter to this Danica, if you're interested. We're headed to Whiterun anyway."

Joric's sister visibly brightened up at the unexpected offer. "Oh, you would? That's very kind of you! Not many of us venture to Whiterun; in fact, most don't leave the town at all if they can help it. When are you setting out?"

"Tomorrow, at the first light. We're staying in the inn overnight; it's too late to venture anywhere."

The woman nodded. "Very well, I'll stop by tonight and give you the letter." She took Joric's hand into hers. "Come on, brother. We still have to see Lami for those alchemy lessons."

"Oh right, let's go then!"

As we watched Joric and his sister depart, silence reigned among us for a few moments until Farlas said "Well, that was certainly strange."

"Tell me about it." I muttered back. "The way he looked at me... I swear it felt like he was staring right through my body. And somehow, he knew about my... _dreams._ " I didn't know how it was possible but the way he said it... he had to know.

Farlas nodded. "Yeah, just like he knew about me being a Dr-" He caught himself before he said 'the word' out loud. "The Nordic hero that slays flying lizards."

 _Bravo,_ I thought wryly. _No one will figure_ that one _out..._

Lydia, who remained quiet until this moment, suddenly cleared her throat. "Just out of curiosity, do you know who you were talking to?"

Farlas gave her a look. "How am I supposed to know? She never told me her name!"

"She was Idgrod the Younger, the daughter of Idgrod Ravencrone, the current Jarl of Morthal."

So the woman was the daughter of the ruler of Morthal? Judging purely by her appearance, she didn't strike me as a local royalty, or whatever it is they call it here. I mean, usually their attire, posture and many other details reflect their stature in the society. But this was no the case.

Farlas gaped at his housecarl; it took him a few seconds to regain his speech. "Really? The daughter of the Jarl? I hope I didn't offend her somehow..."

Lydia shook her head. "I don't think so but that's beside the point, my Thane. Idgrod's lineage was gifted with the ability of clairvoyance and many of its members were renowned soothsayers. I think that might also be the case of young Joric."

The Dragonborn nodded slowly. "Oh, that makes sense, I suppose. Though I'm curious as to how you recognized her."

"Well, I did see her mother once when they were visiting Whiterun." Lydia replied. "I must say, the resemblance between the mother and the daughter is... _beyond striking._ "

So, the little boy might be a soothsayer? It sure looked like it was a major pain rather than a great gift. If anything, hearing all this made me feel even more nervous about my visions. What if it becomes too much one day? I didn't want to end up like a madwoman.

"Delivering Idgrod's letter was a good move, I think. It pays off to gain the favor of a Jarl." The housecarl remarked with a half-smirk. "Though you might do so anyway, being the you-know-who."

Once again, Farlas was extremely grateful that his housecarl refrained from caling him by his titles when in public. "I suspect Joric might know that already." He replied and his smile instantly soured.

"I guess we can't exclude that possibility."

"Then I say it's better we don't stay here too long." Farlas grunted and headed to the inn's entrance. "Let's go get some rest. There's a long journey ahead of us and we're getting up early."

* * *

 _Elaith_

 _Evening of 30th Last Seed, Mages College of Winterhold_

It was a week since I returned to the College and embarked on a research into the dragons and their return. It turned out more challenging than I expected, despite the numerous tomes on the subject that Urag provided me with. Most of the works mentioned the legendary Dragon cult, which ruled Skyrim during the Merethic era and was eventually overthrown by ancient Nords. The cult worshipped the dragons as gods and its leaders, the dragon priests, were granted power in exchange for unconditional loyalty to their dragon lords. Though peaceful at first, the rule of dragons priests soon turned into a bloody tyranny that was only ended with a great uprising that removed the Dragon cult from power. The few dragons that survived the war scattered and went into hiding.

While all of it was terribly interesting, it held nothing relevant to the recent emergence to the dragons. True, there were few curious facts, such as some dragons taking the side of Men, and there were only a handful, but it didn't give me the answers I needed. Other books didn't help much either, with references to dragons and things related to them very sketchy and almost impossible to verify.

None of the books mentioned the big black dragon that razed Helgen to the ground.

I was starting to think that it was all a wasted effort... that is, until yesterday when I happened upon a tome called _The book of the Dragonborn_. It was not exactly a scholarly work but at that point, I was willing to use anything just to get some answers.

While it was not exactly what I was looking for, what I read there certainly gave me much to think about.

Especially the so-called "Prophecy of the Dragonborn," which supposedly came from an Elder Scroll which was a mystery on its own.

I admit, I have no great faith in obscure things such as a 'prophecy'... but out of curiosity, I read through it.

And I couldn't stop thinking about it to this day, even now as I walked around the College grounds, repeating the prophecy incessantly to myself, trying to understand the meaning.

" _When misrule takes its place in the eight corners of the world,"_

I walked past Nirya, whose sneer turned into a puzzled grimace as she caught me muttering words under my breath.

" _When the Brass tower walks and Time is reshaped,"_

While to some it might look like a scribblings of a madman, these seemingly nonsensical words had a hidden meaning to the. Deciphering them was another matter entirely. With my other duties around the college, I couldn't fully commit to this task. It didn't stop me from trying, though.

" _When the thrice-blessed fail and the Red tower trembles, when the Dragonborn ruler loses his throne and the White tower falls,"_

Paying no mind to strange looks from both students and my colleagues, I entered the Hall of the Elements.

" _When the Snow tower lies sundered, kingless, bleeding,"_

The lecture hall was empty. No wonder since it was late evening...

" _The World Eater wakes and the Wheel turns upon the Last Dragonborn..."_ I paused near the Focal point dead in the center of the hall and tried to gather my thoughts.

 _The World Eater..._ The words rang a distant bell, but for the love of Gods I just couldn't remember where I heard them before. What was it, this World Eater? And how was it connected to the 'Last Dragonborn', whoever it was?

Deeply in thoughts, I failed to hear the approaching footsteps.

"Hmm... 'Time is reshaped'... Sounds like a Dragon Break, and the 'Brass tower'... That could only be the Numidium... 'Dragonborn ruler'... The Septim dynasty, that's clear enough... what about-"

"The officer of the infamous Sixth legion of Imperial army now reduced to a blabbering wreck. How the mighty have fallen..." The mocking remark interrupted my chain of thought. I was ready to snap back a reply but the words died in my throat as soon as I saw the person addressing me.

It was Ancano, the 'advisor' of the Archmage and the officer of the Thalmor. Just the very last person I wanted to see.

"Well, if it isn't our guest from the Dominion." I said with faked cheer. "I'd say it's a pleasure to meet you... but I don't make a habit of lying to people's faces."

The haughty smirk on Ancano's face faded. "Oh, the feeling is mutual. You beter believe that, _Legate._ "

"It's _former_ Legate, Ancano." I corrected him. "My career with the Legion ended 25 years ago."

"Yes, I'm well aware." The 'advisor' said dismissively. "That much was clear after you stormed out of the Emperor's palace like a child having a temper tantrum the day the Concordat was signed."

While I did my best to remain composed, I certainly wasn't pleased that Ancano brought that up.

I remembered the day; not one of my finest moments. Just a few days after the war between the Empire and the Dominion ended in a bloody stalemate. I was present when Emperor Titus Mede and other representatives of the Empire negotiated the terms of the treaty with the Dominion. Not that the soldiers had any say in that; all we could was accept the treaty's terms after it was all said and done. Disbanding the Blades, ceding southern Hammerfell to the Dominion, ban of Talos' worship and other outrageous demands... If it were up to me I'd rather have my hands chopped off than sign something so humiliating.

But our Emperor agreed. Only Gods know what thoughts went through his mind as he put his signature on that damned scrap of paper.

I disagreed with that decision, me and a few others. And I'm forced to admit that I've had a weak moment during the argument when I essentially accused the Emperor of trying to destroy the Empire, in front of his entire court, no less. It didn't gain me much favor and was partially a reason for my 'early retirement.'

But that was all in a past, one that I didn't want to revisit.

"What do you want, Ancano?" I said in an even tone. "You wouldn't seek me out if you didn't want something from me so out with it!"

Ancano began pacing around the hall. "You know, when I received the relocation order to this... _Mages College_ of yours, I found myself wondering just what I did wrong to deserve such injustice. An advisor to a mediocre mage in a school filled with his even less competent underlings? I'd sooner welcome a _re-education_ back in Alinor. But then imagine my surprise when I got the list of people I'd have to deal with... and saw _your_ name on it. It was only then when I agreed."

The advisor was now smiling... and not in a friendly way.

"So what? If you planned to propose marriage to me then I'm sorry to say you've been wasting your time." I replied flippantly. It seemed to get under Ancano's skin because the smirk on his face was instantly gone.

"As if I'd ever marry a _traitor_ to our people!"

That kind of reaction should've been expected. The Dominion only had one valid vision of the world: one with the Altmer on one side, and with everyone beneath them on the other. And whoever wasn't with them was their enemy; even the slightest divergence of opinions was met with condemnation. And me? I served in the Imperial army; that was enough for me to be branded a 'traitor to Altmer', as Ancano put it. Everything else, including my opposition to Thalmor's world domination, was a mere detail.

"We, Altmer, are the descendants of the Divines themselves! The world is _ours_ to inherit; it's our birthright! We're above any other people that ever walked, walk, or will walk the face of Nirn! And look at you, _Elaith Gernanne_ ; you abandoned our destiny, betrayed our people to serve that pathetic Empire, founded by those lowly Men who aren't worth walking in our shadow yet they're so audacious as to proclaim one of their own ilk a _Divine!_ You _murdered_ our people in the first war against the Empire and even tried to sabotage the peace the Dominion so generously offered them!"

I didn't say a word and let Ancano spout the supremacist drivel he was no doubt fed with since early youth. I've heard this 'truth of elven superiority' hundreds of times, even more so when the Dominion seemed at the height of its power. Sooner later, they'd get their comeuppance for all atrocities they commited everywhere in Tamriel.

At some point during his angry rant, Ancano grabbed my arm and tugged roughly on it, knocking me off balance. "If I wasn't bound by orders from the First Emissary, I'd kill you myself! You deserve nothing less, you worthless renegade trash!"

My response was to hold up my left hand, crackling with bluish-white sparks, and putting it to Ancano's reddened face.

"I'd do the same to you if it didn't result in a diplomatic scandal." I snarled back. "Now, let go of me and keep your murderous urges in check or we'll both regret it."

Deadly silence hung between us.

Our stares remained locked for a good few moments before Ancano relented and released his grip on my arm.

"Your time will come, _bitch_ ; be sure of that." He sneered, fuming with barely contained anger.

I rolled my eyes at his threat, basking in his furious expression. "Yes, I'm sure it will. Now, don't you have better things to do, such as _doing your damned job?_ "

Like if someone flipped a switch, Ancano's scowl evaporated and he adopted his usual indifferent expression with only smallest hints of typical Thalmor arrogance. "You better watch your back, _Legate._ " He hissed under his breath. "The Dominion does not forgive, nor does it forget." Then he turned on his heel and left the lecture hall at a brisk pace.

His threats didn't faze me in the slightest but if this encounter told me something, it was that Ancano was someone we all should be wary of.

Not to mention I was still yet to explain the prophecy, the thing that drove me up the wall since yesterday.

* * *

 _Farlas_

 _31_ _th_ _Last Seed, Rorikstead, the steward's house_

"What do you mean, you won't pay us?!"

Rorik huffed in displeasure. "You have no right for the reward; I thought I made myself clear enough."

This was simply unbelievable...

We solved the mystery of the vanishing travellers near Rorikstead, we risked our lives fighting through hordes of enslaved spirits and facing the crazy wizard hiding in the old Nordic ruins. Hell, we nearly died trying to kill the bastard but we survived and he did not. True, it might've been one of the captives that finished Sild off in the end, but if we didn't let him out first, the warlock would still be alive, kidnapping people for his sick experiments.

And what do we get for our hard work? The old codger Rorik wouldn't pay us _a single measly Septim._

"I don't know if you get it, or care even, but we risked our lives down there!" I argued. "We deserve at least _something!_ "

"You failed to end the warlock, that's what I _do_ get." Rorik snapped back. "You didn't strike the killing blow."

Okay, that was preposterous! Aside from the three of us and Sild, there was no one in that crypt. And who would care about some bloodsucker that only took its chance to feed? Their kind were little more than beasts, anyway; maybe immortal and with unnatural powers, but still just beasts.

I admit, I found Jonna's story about a vampire saving Morthal hard to believe. I mean, since when vampires help us lowly mortals; to them we're food, nothing more.

My feelings about vampires were beside the point now. Someone was trying to cheat us out of our hard-earned money.

"That's impossible! There was no one but us!"

Rorik regarded me with a cold look. He reached under the table and pulled out a rough sack filled with something heavy. Then he upended it... and a severed head fell out, rolling on the floor until it came to a stop at Falaere's feet.

The Elf nearly jumped out of her skin out of sheer surprise.

I looked at the head... and my heart fell when I recognized Sild's face.

"If you really went down into that crypt and disposed of this warlock, as you claim, surely you'd think of returning with a proof, right?" Rorik stated, obviously considering the matter closed.

For a good moment, I was rendered speechless. I swore there was no one beside us in that crypt; we even stayed in the jail quarters for some time after Sild was finally slain. If anyone else wandered inside, we'd know. _I would know._

Now it seemed we would walk away empty handed, after all. But I wasn't to let this go that easily.

"Who was the person that gave you the warlock's head?"

Rorik exhaled sharply, annoyed that I was still there talking to him. "What?"

"I want to know who gave you that head!" I repeated my question. "How did they look like-"

"That's enough!" Rorik cut me off. "Since you obviously didn't catch my meaning, I'll put it in plain terms: _we're done here!_ There's nothing to talk about so remove yourselves from my house or I'll call the guards!"

I was starting to get fed up with this guy...

Before I could object, Lydia decided to intervene. I didn't know at the time what she was about to say; otherwise, I would've shut her up myself...

"Do you even realize just who you're talking to? This is Thane Farlas of Whiterun, awarded by Jarl Balgruuf the Greater himself for-"

Thankfully Rorik interrupted her before she could spill anything else.

"A Thane I've never heard of, one that dresses like a _lowly brigand,_ too? Likely story. Now get out of my house!"

At that point it was clear that any further arguing was pointless. So I relented and walked out of the house. But before I closed the door behind me, I gave Rorik the fiercest glare I could muster. "Mark my words, Rorik; I will remember this!" And then I slammed the door, not giving the old man a chance to speak.

One day, Rorik will learn just _whom_ he refused and threatened.

But first, I had things to clear up with my housecarl.

"Well, this is what we get for helping." Falaere remarked with a sour grimace.

"And to think that Rorik is reputed to be a fair man!" Lydia huffed. "He'll get his comeuppance one day."

"Lydia!"

The woman stiffened at my stern tone.

"Is there a problem, my-" I didn't let her finish.

"What did I tell you about disclosing my identity and my status?"

"That I'm forbidden to do so without your consent."

I nodded sharply. "And whay, pray tell, did you just do?"

Lydia stared back at me for a few seconds before objecting "I wasn't about to let that lout threaten you when you were clearly-"

"Beside the point; I said you're not to tell anyone who or _what_ I am unless I allow you. That is non-negotiable!"

"With all due respect-"

"We've been over this already, Lydia!" I snapped back, tossing my hands up in the air. "There's a reason why I keep my titles to myself!"

"Why are you so angry about this?" Falaere butted in. "Rorik didn't believe it anyway so you don't have to worry about anyone giving away your identity."

Well, she wasn't wrong when I thought about it... Rorik didn't hesitate to say what he thought about the possibility of me being a Thane and he was de facto leader of Rorikstead. Nobody here would bother me about being a Thane or, Gods forbid, _Dragonborn_ for a while. Plus, after weeks of travelling around I sported a pretty long beard already. If I shaved it, along with cutting my already too long hair, Rorik wouldn't recognize me anyway.

Still, this kind of luck wouldn't hold out long. The next time my housecarl stupidly blurted out my identity it could have some serious consequences.

Heaving a long sigh, I turned away from Lydia and began walking down the cobbled path. "Just remember what I told you. I'm serious, damn it."

"Of course." The housecarl affirmed quietly.

"So what now?" Falaere asked. "Shouldn't we make a stop here to resupply? Or rent a room in the inn?"

"We don't have the time." I replied. "We need to see whoever took the horn and learn what the Oblivion they want from us."

"Well, it's you they want to get in touch with." The elf pointed out. "The note was meant for the 'Dragonborn', remember?"

I rolled my eyes at her observation. "I know. Thanks for reminding me." I turned back to my housecarl. "How far it is to Whiterun from here, Lydia?"

"Usually it's a two-day journey between Whiterun and Rorikstead." Lydia replied. "If we're fast, we might make it before tomorrow's nightfall."

"Very well, then." I nodded. "Let's move; we have a lot of ground to cover."

* * *

 _Elaith_

 _31th Last Seed, Mages College of Winterhold_

After hours and hours of browsing through old books on history from various sources, beginning with scholarly works and ending with collection of folk lore and such, I could finally say I managed to uncover the meaning of metaphors behind the prophecy of the Dragonborn.

It was not an easy job; far from it, actually. I had a feeling that the metaphores might be references to real events. Alas, while my knowledge on magic, its theoretical apects and practical use, might be extensive even for a wizard, I was nowhere as good with history. So, I barely got any sleep; I used some stimulating concoctions to keep myself awake and only took a short rest when I was literally about to pass out from exhaustion.

Nevertheless, it paid off in the end.

I had little faith in things so obscure and vague such as prophecies; those could be interpreted in a myriad of ways. But as I uncovered the hidden meanings and references in this particular one, I slowly came to a realization that maybe we shouldn't take them so lightly...

I can say I didn't like what I was reading.

The first verse was a clear reference to the imprisonment of the Emperor Uriel Septim VII. His battlemage Jagar Tharn took his identity and trapped him inside a small Oblivion plane using a powerful artifact, the Staff of chaos, which he then split into eight pieces and scattered those all over the world in order to stop anyone from overthrowing him; hence, the _'eight corners of the world.'_

The second verse spoke of the Numidium, an enormous Dwemer animunculus built in the First era. When it was activated after many centuries spent in a dormant state, it caused a Dragon break, a huge anomaly in time and space. The words _'Time was reshaped'_ clearly pointed to that.

The third verse was related to the history of Morrowind. _'The thrice-blessed'_ were a metaphor for the Tribunal, a trio of mortals-turned-gods who were worshipped in Morrowind instead of Daedra for many centuries: Almalexia, Sotha Sil and Vivec. During a strange twist of events, the Tribunal was removed from power at the end of Third era. Then came the Red year: eruption of Red mountain, the large volcano in Vvardenfell Isle; _'The Red tower trembles.'_

The fourth verse was clear enough. _'The Dragonborn ruler loses his throne'_ – the Oblivion crisis that ended the Septim dynasty of emperors. _'White tower falls'_ referred to the Great war, where Dominion forces sacked Imperial city, including the White-Gold tower.

In the fifth verse, _'Snow tower'_ most likely meant the province of Skyrim, and _'lies sundered, kingless, bleeding'_ was a reference to the Civil war; High King Torygg murdered by his challenger Ulfric Stormcloak, and Nords engaged in a fratricidal war.

The last verse was probably the most 'challenging' part of the prophecy.

 _'The World Eater wakes'_... was that a metaphor for some kind of apocalypse? And _'the Wheel turns upon the Last Dragonborn'?_ What is the Wheel? And why the Last Dragonborn? History knows many of Dragon blood; how were we to know which one would be the last?

To summarize it all, the prophecy most likely warned of some world-ending event, even predicted the things that would lead up to it... and the Last Dragonborn was a key to stopping that from happening. Or that's what the prophecy implied. Yet there was nothing on how the dragons fit into the grand scheme of things.

The World Eater remained the only unknown piece in this puzzle but somehow it seemed to be the most important one.

Gathering all the borrowed books, I rushed back to the Arcanaeum. While Urag certainly didn't know everything, he could provide me with some starting point.

* * *

Author's note: _And here goes another chapter. Two updates for the same story within one month... That one hasn't happened to me in a while. Not that it's a bad thing :-D Writing has been pretty exhausting lately. I mean here in Czechia (I can't believe I wrote that :-P) the temperature's been well over 30 C. degrees during last week. The heat makes it hard to think... Thank God it will end soon, at least here._

 _To_ Dragon Man 180: _Yeah, I can understand why people hate Delphine. I mean, she steals the horn in order to get you to talk to her instead getting off her fat ass and seeking you out in person, then she orders you around to kill a dragon, infiltrate an embassy, fetch her an old man, find her an even older temple, etc. etc., she's paranoid, pig-headed, patronizing... at least the game shows her that way. Still, I'm sure she could be much more interesting character, if given more space._

 _As for future developments in the story, I adhere to the strict 'no spoilers' policy, so... sorry guys._

 _As always, thanks for reading, review, favorite or follow; compliments and/or critique always welcome :-)_


	17. XVII) Dragon of the North

Chapter 17 – Dragon of the North

 _Farlas_

 _Evening of 1_ _st_ _Hearth Fire, Riverwood_

The village didn't change at all since our last visit. The sawmill was still operational, Alvor the smith was busy working the forge and children were darting back and forth among the villages, laughing as they did. If there really were any changes I failed to notice them. I was simply too tired for that, just like my companions.

We walked without stopping all the way here from Rorikstead, not counting the one time when we set up camp halfway to Whiterun to get some sleep. And I only stopped in Whiterun to hand Idgrod's letter to the head priestess in Kynareth's temple, which did earn us some extra coin. After previous development, it came as a surprise that we encountered no obstacles during the journey. A nice change of pace, considering we ended up getting screwed in Ustengrav and then once more in Rorikstead.

The trip took a lot out of us. Trekking for over fifty miles virtually non-stop was no small feat. We were tired and hungry but still, we reached our destination. It was time to meet the mysterious horn thief, provided they would even show up.

The door to the Sleeping giant inn creaked quietly as I pushed them open. The three of us entered; there were a few curious glances cast our way but the patrons soon went back to drinking. Most of Riverwood was gathered here; the trader Lucan and his sister, blacksmith Alvor and his family, the Wood elf Faendal, Sven the bard and many others I didn't recognize.

I took a look around the inn, searching for someplace to sit. There was one free table in the secluded spot near the bar, away from the large fire in the middle. It was exactly what we needed; we wouldn't want to be too conspicuous. The moment we took our seats, a woman wearing a long blue dress with a low cut was walking our way. After a few moments of staring I realized I'd seen her before. She was the Breton innkeeper; I saw her when I visited the inn the morning after the Helgen disaster but at the time I didn't care to get a better look at her.

She looked about forty years old if I were to guess; soft wrinkles around her eyes marring her otherwise youthful appearance betrayed her real age. Still, I was sure that many women her age would kill for her looks; long blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail, piercing grey-blue eyes, lean frame... There was something about her that had me on edge, though. It was the way her eyes darted around her surroundings, as if searching for something... or someone. I didn't know what to make of that.

The innkeeper finally stopped at our table. "What can I get you?" The smile on her face looked way too practiced. I thought nothing of it, though; she was probably just tired.

Since nobody objected, I ordered an ale and something to eat for each one of us; there was beef stew for dinner on the menu. I could always ask about the 'attic room' later, anyway.

A while later, Orgnar the barkeep brought us the food and the drinks. As soon as the plates appeared in front of us, we dug in. I'm sure many people would feel disgusted by our table manners but we were just too hungry to care.

To her credit, Lydia did swallow before she spoke up, sparing us the trouble of being sprayed by bits of half-chewed stew. "Did you notice the way the innkeep was staring at us when we came in?" She asked, keeping her voice low. "Almost like if she expected us to start some trouble around here."

"And can you blame her?" Falaere retorted. "With the war going on, too many suspicious individuals roam the roads unchecked. You have no way to know if the guy entering the inn is a traveler or a brigand."

I shook my head. "I don't think bandits are so bold as to just march into a village where guards are posted."

My housecarl seemed to disagree. "With all due respect, you'd change your opinion if you lived her for a month or longer. With sufficient numbers, the bandits sometimes dare take on a whole city, even."

I found it hard to believe that the brigand rabble could muster enough numbers to take on a heavily guarded city. But with the chaos caused by the civil war, it could be rather easy for the bandits to get organized in such manner. Since nobody could spare the manpower to keep the roads safe, bandits were having great times, indeed.

Our quiet conversation was interrupted by an argument between the innkeeper and Orgnar, the Nord behind the bar. Though it was loud enough to be audible over all the noise in the tavern, the patrons seemed to ignore it. Still, we happened to sit close enough to hear every word.

"For Divines' sake, Orgnar, when are you gonna brew that new batch of ale like I asked you _three days ago?!_ "

"I told ya yesterday, Delphine: I'm gonna get it done 'till the end of the week." Came Orgnar's indifferent response, a sharp contrast to the innkeeper's irritated demeanor.

"Damn it, I can't afford to keep putting this off until the ale runs out or worse, goes bad!" Delphine the innkeeper was visibly frustrated by Orgnar's lack of concern.

"Calm down, Delphine; you're scarin' our patrons with all that yellin'."

"You think I give a shi-" She cut herself off mid-sentence, realizing the argument started to attract unwanted attention. Exhaling deeply to calm her nerves, she said in much lower volume. "Just take care of it tomorrow, Orgnar. _Please,_ this is important."

"I'll get around to it, I always do."

Delphine just muttered something that sounded suspiciously close to 'Yeah, _eventually..._ ' and went to tend to the other patrons.

"Looks like a healthy workplace relationship." Falaere quipped. "I'm surprised this inn is still standing."

"Apparently, coin has more weight here than personal differences." Lydia remarked and took a sip of ale.

As amusing as the squabble between Orgnar and Delphine was, we had other things to worry about... or _I did,_ to be precise. "Let's finish up our meals and I'll ask Delphine about that 'attic room.'" I said tiredly. "I want to get this over with as soon as possible."

It was at that moment when it dawned on me that the Sleeping giant inn wasn't really equipped to have an attic room in the first place. When I looked up, I saw the underside the thatch roof and nothing else; no planks or beams that would support the second floor.

It seemed that our thief was too fond of messing with people. It made me want to smash their face in even more.

"You know," The Wood elf spoke up again. "Our friendly innkeep seems somewhat familiar to me."

I gave her a questioning look. "Meaning?"

"Well, I can't quite put a finger on it but I have an impression that I may have met her before." Falaere explained. "I swear her voice sounds familiar... when she isn't shouting, that is."

I couldn't help it but scowl. There went another addition to the ever-growing pile of questions. "That's a great observation and all but it doesn't help us any."

"Look, I admit I might be wrong but if I'm not, then this can't be a mere coincidence, right?"

Lydia listened to our conversation but didn't say anything, eating the last bits of her beef stew.

Our conversation was cut short when Delphine approached our table. "Is there anything else I can get ya?" This time she didn't bother to even fake a smile.

"Nay, we've had our fill, thanks." I replied and then fished out a coinpurse. "Say, would you have an attic room for rent here?" I knew there most likely wasn't any but what else was I supposed to do?

I expected the innkeep to look at me like if I were an idiot... but she just replied without batting an eye. "Attic room, eh? Well... we don't have an attic room, but there's one free room on the left, if you're willing to take it." She glanced at my company. "I guess the ladies want to have their own room?"

"No, that's alright." Lydia replied before anyone else could, offering a studied smile on her own. "We've been travelling together for weeks now, we're used to sleeping in one room." Falaere hid her surprise well, certainly better than me. I had to turn away from the innkeep just so she wouldn't see my surprised expression.

Delphine stared at my housecarl for a few minutes before saying "If you say so." Then she added. "I should warn you that the room has only two beds. We don't really have anything bigger; few reasons for travelers to stay in Riverwood, anyway. Though I think I should have some spare bedrolls tucked away around here, if you're interested..."

"Oh, don't trouble yourself. We have our own." I was surprised how well Lydia was able to improvise; it seemed the inkeep didn't catch on to her little lie.

"Suit yourself." Delphine shrugged in response.

I paid of the food, drinks and the room. The coin we managed to gather since Helgen was dwindling faster than I liked. It was high time I found some steady source of income. Alas, there weren't many opportunities due to present circumstances. Especially being a Dragonborn practically ruined any chance of settling down and finding some job. Ever since I left Cyrodiil I didn't stop in one place for longer than a day or two and that likely wouldn't change for some time.

The innkeep led us to the room we rented. Before we could even get comfortable, she left, slamming the door behind her.

"I wonder why she was in such a hurry." Falaere muttered to herself.

"So what now?" Lydia asked.

"Now, we have to wait." I replied and sat down on one of the two beds in the room. It was getting harder to contain my frustration. Whoever stole Jurgen's horn apparently enjoyed messing with people; like if leading us on a goose chase across the entire hold wasn't enough, they instructed us to rent an attic room in an inn that didn't even have an 'attic'. Then there was the matter of what exactly they wanted with me. I was starting to doubt they'd even show up at Sleeping giant, but on the other hand, why would they go through all the trouble to steal the horn, just to leave us hanging?

It just didn't make any sense.

The door suddenly cracked open with a low creak. I looked up... and saw Delphine standing in the doorway, one hand hidden behind her back. She stepped inside and closed the door behind her.

She was scowling for some reason.

I opened my mouth to ask what was wrong but the innkeep cut me off.

"When I asked for the Dragonborn to meet me here, I didn't think three of 'em would show up."

The shock lasted for just a few moments.

I still didn't know what in Oblivion was going on but one thing was clear; Delphine sure wasn't the 'simple innkeeper' she passed herself off as.

"There's just one Dragonborn, _innkeep._ " I intoned and stood up to face her. "And I think you have something that was meant for _me._ " I added, casting her a dirty glare.

"And you think correctly." Delphine responded, uncovering whatever she was hiding behind her back.

It was the horn of Jurgen Windcaller.

My hand reached out to take it, as if acting on its own accord. But Delphine yanked it away from my grasp before I could touch it, much to my ire.

"But first, we need to talk."

There were three of us. We could've easily overpowered Delphine and take the horn from her but the patrons probably wouldn't take too kindly to us beating up the poor innkeeper... and she knew it too.

 _Damn woman..._

Against my better judgment, I decided to play along for now. "Fine, then. Lead the way."

With a curt nod, she pressed the horn into my palm and turned on her heel to walk into the opposite room, beckoning us to follow.

Thankfully, no one seemed to pay attention to what was going on.

Delphine opened the door and let me inside, but when Lydia and Falaere wanted to follow, she stepped into the doorway and barred them from entering.

"Sorry but I only want to talk to the Dragonborn." She said in a low voice. "The two of you will have to wait outside."

Now, Falaere was willing to comply though she didn't look particularly pleased. But Lydia... that was another case.

"Sorry, but that is not happening." The housecarl retorted, regarding the 'innkeep' with a defiant glare.

The situation was pretty much reminiscent of an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object. Neither Lydia nor Delphine would budge, here. So it fell to me to step in.

"Listen, lady." I said in a firm tone. "I don't know what you're playing at but I see no reason why they should be excluded from this 'secret meeting' of yours."

"With all due respect, what I'm about to tell you isn't meant for just anyone's ears!" Delphine protested. "I don't know who those people are-"

" _I do_ , and I trust them." I cut her off. "They're coming with me and that's final."

Delphine glared at me for a few more moments, less than pleased with my decision. I was ready to leave the inn and never return in case she didn't budge; I had what I came here for, anyway. I had to suppress a victorious smirk when I heard her sigh deeply.

"Alright then, they may enter. Let's hope I'm not making a mistake."

At the first glance, the next room looked pretty much like the previous one, if a bit better furnished. Delphine was the last to enter, closing the door behind her.

"We're not there yet." She said and walked over to the wardrobe in the corner. Before I could even ask what she was doing, Delphine opened the wardrobe and pushed against the back panel. To our surprise, it slid to the side and revealed a narrow staircase leading to the cellar. She began descending down the stairs. The rest of us followed closely after her; I went last and closed the wardrobe.

We were welcomed by the sight of what looked like some kind of secret meeting room. It was mostly bare, furnished only with necessities such as an alchemy lab, enchanting table, some weapon racks, shelves and a couple of chests. There was also a large table in the middle, though with no chairs.

Delphine put both hands on the table's desk, leaning over a map of Skyrim. "Alright, now we can talk."

" _We better._ " I snapped back, folding my arms over my chest. "I don't know who you are, what you want, or how in Oblivion you managed to snatch that horn, but I don't appreciate being made fool of. If it weren't for that stunt of yours we wouldn't have to waste time chasing after some elusive _thief._ I can't speak for my comrades here but I'm pretty pissed right now so let's just cut to the chase."

Delphine showed no reaction to my rant. "Look, I realize it probably wasn't the best way to introduce myself but I didn't go through all the trouble on a whim. I needed to make sure it wasn't a Thalmor trap."

I narrowed my eyes in suspicion. A woman wanted by Thalmor, masquerading as an innkeeper? This was getting better and better... "What does the Thalmor have to do with any of this? What other surprises are you neglecting to mention? Explain yourself!"

Delphine frowned. "I'll explain what I want, when I want, _got it?_ " She barked out, slamming her hand down the table. "If I didn't like the look of you when you came in here you would've-"

"Alright, I've had enough!" I responded with a shout on my own. "I should've know this was a waste of time. Lydia, Falaere, we're done here." I turned around and began walking back to the stairs. So much time lost tracking down some Breton who thought she could just boss me around... Coming here was a mistake... one that I wouldn't repeat.

Hence why I was thoroughly disappointed with myself when I stopped at her panicked cry of "Wait!"

Taking a few moments to compose herself, Delphine continued. "I am _not_ your enemy, Dragonborn. I already gave you the horn," Which was a rookie mistake since nothing kept me from walking out on her... "I'm actually trying to _help you!_ All I'm asking is that you hear me out-"

"Let me make something clear, first." I said firmly, cutting her off mid-sentence. "First off, this Dragonborn has a name; it's Farlas and I suggest you start using it. Secondly, from where I'm standing, it seems that you need me far more than I need you. That means you should rather explain why you dragged us here instead of mouthing off to me. And most importantly, I don't know you. I don't know who you are, or what your game is; you might be trying to use me for your own purposes." I leaned on the table with my hands, mimicking the Breton's stance. "Bottom line; if you're not my enemy, then prove it. And you can start with giving me some real answers."

To my surprise, Delphine didn't even protest this time.

"This might take a while so you should make yourselves comfortable, I suppose." The Breton said. "First off, I'm a part of the group that's been looking for someone like you for a very long time. And when I heard the talk of a Dragonborn appearing, it naturally caught my attention."

"What do you want with the Dragonborn?" I asked.

Delphine shook her head. "Right now, I can only assume you are Dragonborn." I couldn't help it but frown at that. "Don't give me that look; I have good reasons to be cautious. But anyway, we remember what most don't; the Dragonborn is the ultimate dragonslayer. You're the only one that can permanently kill a dragon by _devouring its soul._ "

"Yeah, Balgruuf's court wizard mentioned something like that." My mind wandered to the aftermath of the battle at the Western watchtower; my first dragon kill. I didn't think I'd ever get used to absorbing a soul as great and powerful as dragon's; after all, I blacked out the first time it happened... and it wouldn't get any easier.

"Can you do it? Can you devour a dragon's soul?"

I gave Delphine an incredulous look. "What kind of question is _that?_ Greybeards told me themselves I'm the Dragonborn, not to mention all the witnesses in the Whiterun guard!"

"My experiences taught me never to take anything at face value." She replied tonelessly. "I'll believe it when I actually _see_ you slay a dragon... and I believe I'll get an opportunity very soon."

Falaere chuckled silently. "You really are paranoid, aren't you?"

"Comes with the occupation." Came Delphine's impassionate response.

"Let's get back to our business." I cast a suspicious look at the Breton. "What exactly do you mean by 'opportunity to slay a dragon?'"

"Exactly _that._ " She replied. "Everyone knows dragons are coming back. But the real truth is far worse; _they're coming back from the dead._ "

"That's impossible!" Lydia burst out.

"I wish it were, but we need to face facts here. The dragons weren't simply hiding somewhere throughout all these years. They were dead, killed off by my predecessors. But now, something's happening to bring them back to life. I need your help to find out what it is, and stop it." ' _Killed off by my predecessors'..._ Just who I was dealing with here?

Lydia shook her head in bewilderment. "This sounds completely insane."

Delphine chuckled humorlessly. Honestly, I didn't think she was even capable of laughing... "Years ago, I said about the same thing to a colleague of mine. It turned out he was right, and I was wrong."

"So something is resurrecting dragons?" I questioned. "How do you know that?"

"I visited their ancient burial mounds and found them empty." She explained. "And I think I've figured out the next one to come back to life."

"How?"

"A bit of research and recruitment of outside help." She replied. "The map I got from the Dragonstone was particularly useful."

"So that was _you_ back in Dragonsreach!" Falaere cried out, pointing her finger accusingly at Delphine. "I knew I've seen you before!"

Only when the Wood elf said it out loud it finally clicked. I guess I should be more attentive to the happenings around me...

"Nice to see _someone's_ been paying attention." Delphine remarked dryly. "Anyway, the Dragonstone Farengar had you fetch for me is actually a map of dragon burial sites. I've marked the ones that are empty." She pointed at the several red circles drawn in the map. "The pattern seems pretty clear; it's spreading from the south-east, starting in Jerall mountains near Riften. If it holds, the next one should be right... here." Her finger jabbed at a dot in the north-eastern part of the map.

I squinted at that particular spot. "And that's... where?"

"Near Kynesgrove. The dragon mound is on a hill overlooking the village. If we can get there before _it_ happens, maybe we can learn how to stop it!"

"Seems like a long trip from here." Lydia noted. "Even if we set a quick pace it'll take us two days to get there."

"And we're pretty done in, as it is." I added. "We need a few hours of rest before going anywhere. Not to mention I have to return the horn to the Greybeards."

Delphine huffed in disapproval. "You need some rest, I get it, but the horn can wait until we're done at Kynesgrove. Don't forget, I know where the next resurrection will happen, but not _when_ ; we can hardly afford any delays!"

"We have time."

All of us looked at Falaere, who interrupted our argument. There it was again; that strange, far-away look in her eyes, just like after her accident in Shroud Hearth barrow... and right after I nearly fell to my death in Sild's lair. Did she have _another_ vision?

"How on Nirn could you know that?" Delphine intoned, disbelief clear in her voice.

"I just know... there's no way to explain this." The Wood elf replied. "But I'm sure; we have time until the end of this week."

Delphine seemed to study her for a few moments. "Hm... never took you for some kind of mystician when I first saw you in Farengar's study." Then she looked at Lydia. "And I don't think I've seen you before. You a sellsword?"

Lydia seemed very insulted by her assumption. " _A housecarl_ , actually." She replied a little too forcefully.

The Breton stared back wordlessly at her. I could feel her grey matter working overtime, pondering over the meaning of Lydia's answer. When she let out an amused chuckle and shook her head in apparent bewilderment, it was clear she arrived to a conclusion.

"Ah, so you're the new Thane of Whiterun everyone in the city talks about?" She addressed me with a smirk. "Seems you're going places, already."

I had nothing to say to that. I was still peeved at the cards I've been dealt but I couldn't do anything about it now. Might as well keep going and see where the road takes me.

"So, what's your decision, my Thane?" My housecarl asked.

Well, Delphine already knew so there was no point in keeping it a secret. "Very well, I'm willing to help you with your scheme, _Delphine._ On one condition," I demanded. "I know you're still holding out on me, and you won't talk until I kill the damn dragon for you, so after it's all done, you'll tell me everything I want to know."

"Fine by me." I expected her to pack-pedal so it surprised me how quickly she agreed. "Honestly, if it were up to me I'd be on my way right now but since your friend," She gave Falaere a pointed look which the elf ignored. "assures me we have enough time, I'm willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. Let's hope I won't come to regret it later."

"I am sure," The elf repeated. "Trust me on this."

"Anyway, if you're dead set on making a stop at High Hrothgar, then you should know you'll be taking the longer road. It'll take you three days to get to Kynesgrove through Helgen and Ivarstead; I suggest you move quickly. The sooner you get to Kynesgrove, the better." Delphine continued, her voice serious. "I'm going to take the northern route around Darkwater crossing. There's a tavern in Kynesgrove called Braidwood inn; I'll be waiting for you there until you arrive."

"Sounds like a plan." I answered. "We'll set out tomorrow morning, after we restock." There were no objections coming from my companions.

"Very well, then." Delphine nodded. "I'll meet you in Kynesgrove. Don't be late."

* * *

 _Evening of 2_ _nd_ _Hearth Fire, High Hrothgar_

Not a thing changed at High Hrothgar since I left for Ustengrav over a week ago.

The Greybeards were carrying on with their daily routine that consisted mainly of meditation and practicing the Thu'um. They didn't appear to be housing any guests in their monastery.

The sound of closing doors echoed throughout the ancient building. There was no way they wouldn't notice someone entering. I walked through the entrance hall; my companions were waiting in the inn down in Ivarstead. It was empty at the time so I sat down near one of the fires, waiting for someone to show up.

I didn't have to wait too long. Though I was a bit surprised when I saw Einarth approach me, instead of Arngeir.

" _Dovahkiin..."_ The monk said and the ground immediately trembled. Arngeir sure wasn't lying when he said the other monks could cause some serious destruction merely by speaking. After a brief pause, Einarth continued. "Wait here... I'll notify Arngeir of your return." I could tell it took him considerable effort to speak normally. I remembered what Arngeir told me about him; the youngest, yet the most talented in the order.

" _With enough practice, he'll achieve complete control over his Voice within a mere year or two."_ He told me. _"He'll become the new speaker for the Greybeards when my time comes..."_

Few minutes later, Einarth came back with the rest of the Greybeards following closely behind him. I pulled out the horn out of my backpack and presented it to him.

Arngeir smiled when he recognized the artifact in my hand. "Ah, you've retrieved the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller. Well done; you've now passed all our trials." He gestured to the center of the hall where the floor tiles formed a large square. "Now come with us, it is time to formally recognize you as Dragonborn."

I followed them to the center of the hall, standing directly in the middle of the square.

"Now, Master Wulfgar will now teach you the final word of the 'Unrelenting force' shout, _Dah,_ which means 'push.'" Arngeir said, giving a subtle gesture to his fellow monk.

Wulfgar whispered " _Dah,_ " and a set of red glowing runes appeared on the floor. Moments later the word echoed throughout my mind. Then the monk gave me his knowledge of the word _Dah_. I could literally feel my soul stir as I gained the knowledge of the last word and thus full power of the 'Unrelenting force' shout.

"With all three words together, this Shout is much more powerful." Arngeir remarked. "Use it wisely." I remembered his warning about arrogance of power and its consequences. While I never thought about disregarding his well-meant advice, I'd gladly test the complete Shout on anyone that would try to do me harm.

Purely to see what it does, of course.

"You have completed the initial phase of your training, Dragonborn. We would speak to you." Arngeir announced. I was about to ask what he meant by that but wasn't given a chance. "Stand between us and prepare yourself." I noticed the monks positioning themselves at the corners of the square. "Few can withstand the unbridled voice of the Greybeards... _but you are ready._ "

Though having no idea what was about to happen, I adjusted my stance, planting my feet a bit wider and bending slightly forward.

However, nothing could prepare me for what was about to come.

The monks opened their mouths all at once... and the ground shook as they began speaking.

" _Lingrah krosis saraan Strundu'ul, voth nid balaan klov praan nau!"_

The sheer power of the Thu'um nearly knocked me off my feet. The hall seemed to spin around me and my ears were ringing.

" _Naal Thu'umu, mu ofan nii nu, Dovahkiin, naal suleyk do Kaan, naal suleyk do Shor ahrk naal suleyk do Atmorasewuth!"_

My head starting to hurt... a lot. It felt like if my brain was about to melt and pour out of my ears. Gritting my teeth, I did my best to stay upright, though it was a difficult task when being blasted by Thu'um from all four sides.

" _Meyz nu Ysmir, Dovahsebrom; dahmaan dar rok!"_

And suddenly it was over. The silence that reigned in the hall was deafening, compared to the thunderous sound of the Greybeards' voice that shook the building mere moments ago. Still shaken from the ordeal, I glanced at my body; everything was where it should be.

Incredibly enough, I survived in one piece.

Then Arngeir broke the silence. "Dovahkiin. You tasted the voice of the Greybeards and passed through unscathed. High Hrothgar is open to you."

The monks bowed slightly and began walking away.

I stopped Arngeir before he could leave the hall, though; I had so many questions to ask...

"Pardon me, Master, but I have to ask... What was the ceremony about? Why the... the Shouting?"

Arngeir remained stoic as he replied. "We spoke the traditional words of greeting to a Dragonborn who has accepted our guidance. The same words were used to greet the young Talos of Atmora, when he came to High Hrothgar, long before he became Emperor Tiber Septim."

"I see... any chance you could tell me what that speech meant?"

The monk chuckled quietly. "Of course, I still forget that you're not well-versed in the dragon language as we are. Here is the rough translation:" He continued in a more ceremonial voice. "Long has the Stormcrown languished, with no worthy brow to sit upon. By our breath, we bestow it now to you, in the name of Kyne, in the name of Shor, and in the name of Atmora of Old. You are Ysmir now, the Dragon of the North; hearken to it."

Ysmir... I heard the name before. One of the books we had back home held it was a name for the Nordic aspect of Talos, the ninth Divine, who 'withstood the power of the Greybeards' voices long enough to hear their prophecy.' Only now I really understood what the words meant. To be named as such... It was a great honor.

Though there was one more thing I needed to ask about. "You said I finished the 'initial phase of my training'. What did you mean by that?"

"As I said before, we're here to guide you in the pursuit of your destiny but you are also required to learn on your own." The monk explained. "You've learnt in days what took the most gifted of us years to achieve but make no mistake; your gift may become your undoing if you're not careful. Patience is the key."

"What do you suggest I do?"

"Skyrim is dotted by many ancient Nordic ruins that contain the Word walls. There you may learn and contemplate the Words of power to further your mastery of the Thu'um. Since I suspect you will be travelling around a lot in pursuit for your purpose, you might devote some of your time to hunting this lost knowledge. Again, your powers are not to be taken lightly so I suggest you take your time with it." Arngeir paused for a moment. "And I know where you might start."

I gave a slow nod. "I'm listening."

"Seek out the altar at Bonestrewn crest, a hill in the middle of a large caldera and its hotsprings in Eastmarch, halfway between Windhelm and Darkwater crossing." He explained. "It is impossible to miss."

"Thank you, master." I replied with a bow. "I'll stay at High Hrothgar overnight and I'll set out tomorrow."

Of course, it wasn't the only reason why I planned to set out so early. I promised to help Delphine with her investigation into dragons and I wasn't about to back out. If something out there was truly bringing dragons back from the dead, then Skyrim, maybe even entire Tamriel would be in grave danger. Multitude of dragons flying around... and I'm just one Dragonborn.

I really hoped Delphine had a plan.

Even now, I was suspicious about the Breton woman. I mean, she snuck into Ustengrav and stole the horn right under our noses, something no one should be able to accomplish. Not to mention that she played an innkeeper while hiding from the Thalmor; that fact alone warrants a degree of suspicion. However she claimed to be my ally and did promise to tell me everything once our business in Kynesgrove was concluded. And then there were Falaere's visions again. I believed her, for obvious reasons, but what if she was wrong this time?

One problem at a time, I reminded myself. Even if we somehow miss the resurrection, we can always follow up to the next dragon mound.

"We have some time left." I asked Arngeir. "I'd like to practice the dragon language, if you have time."

The monk nodded with a smile. "Certainly, Dragonborn. It's never too late to learn."

* * *

Author's note: _A small miracle that I even managed to get this chapter up here. FFN is going through some problems again; I couldn't upload this as a file. Thankfully the copy-and-paste option still worked..._

 _So, I've made it over 100 thousands words per entire story, and we're still going. Plus, this story has now 5 000 views. Rather encouraging for an amateur writer like me; I thank all of you for your continuing interest in this story, for all the reviews/favorites/follows, and let's see if we can make it to half a million words :-)_

 _As for more 'technical' stuff now, I'm sure that whoever played Skyrim has noticed that the entire province looks rather..._ small. _Even the hold capitals look like slightly bigger villages in-game. Not in this fic, though... In order to keep this realistic and lore-friendly at the same time, Skyrim will get expanded here, in terms of both size and populace. I haven't got the opportunity to properly show it yet, but everything will get bigger. A lot._

 _To_ Dragon Man 180: _I agree with you there :D Ancano is a piece of shit, like most of the Thalmor. But unlike him, they serve the ideals and doctrine of the Dominion, even if they are twisted and wrong ideals. Ancano is just a stereotypical power hungry asshole that won't stop at nothing to get what he wants. Loyalty means shit to him IMHO. I mena he could've tried to secure the Eye of Magnus for the Dominion but took it for himself instead. Shows what kind of bastard he was._

 _As for Rorik, he'll get his comeuppance yet though it probably won't involve killing off characters... hopefully. When it comes to these unsavory characters, there are better ways to deal with them than outright killing them. Just saying._

 _As always, thanks for reading, review, favorite or follow; compliments and/or critique always welcome :-)_


	18. XVIII) Blade in the dark

Chapter 18 – Blade in the dark

 _Sailyah_

 _The night of 2nd Hearth Fire, somewhere in The Pale_

The large column of Imperial troops that forced us to wait in Movarth's lair was long gone, already having arrived to the encampment hidden somewhere west of Dawnstar. Or at least that's what Theo told me when he came back from his scouting trip. That was good for us; we could finally be on our way with no one stopping us. And if the rebel forces decided to meet the Imperials in battle, all the better for us. With everyone distracted by fighting, it would be easy for us to reach the Stormcloak territory.

We set out yesterday evening and headed down the road south of Morthal, going through the mining settlement of Stonehills, continuing through the woods north of Eldersblood mountains and then the vast snow fields of the Pale. There we would turn south towards Falkreath, around Mount Monahven before turning to the east into the Rift.

That was the plan. Unfortunately, it didn't account for a furious snowstorm that hit us about an hour after passing through Stonehills. Our kind is immune to cold so the freezing cold wind wasn't much of a bother. Snow blasting into our faces and nearly rendering us blind was, though. There was no shelter along the road so we had little choice but to push forward.

The storm lasted for hours, slowing us down to a snail's pace. It was a relief to all of us when it finally let up. We took a short break, just to see where we were... and our mood soured when we realized we just barely left Hjaalmarch, yet to reach the plains of the Pale.

And Laelette's near-constant complaining wasn't making things any easier.

She never left Morthal before I came along, never had to trek across the land for hours without stopping. Still, I thought that after becoming a vampire, she could handle such strain. So far it seemed I was wrong, though. A good thing we weren't travelling during sunlight otherwise she'd become downright insufferable.

When she moaned for an umpteenth time about her legs 'being heavy as lead', I just told her to tough it out; the sooner she got used to such long travels the better. That seemed to shut her up, though I did catch her burning holes into my body with her glare.

A few hours later and Dawnstar was still nowhere in sight. Only a rapidly thinning forest on the right and a plain of snow on our left, sloping down slowly to the vast sea in the distance.

"The dawn is approaching," Theo said with a scowl as he contemplated the paling night skies over the eastern horizon. "If we don't find some shelter soon, we'll have to keep walking. And you know I don't really fancy a stroll in the sunlight."

"Then you'd better prepare for a few hours of severe discomfort because our luck isn't improving anytime soon." I replied. "Just gulp down a potion and you'll be fine." Though I'd also prefer some shelter over the day, just to keep my companions from bitching, if anything.

"Easy for you to say. You're a pureblood vampire; of course you'll cope better with the sun than us."

I gave him a look. "Since when you've become so soft, Theo?"

Our conversation was suddenly interrupted by a loud cry of "Hey! Uh... You there, travelers!"

It came from our right. I glanced in the direction the voice came from and I saw four humanoid shapes among the trees. The whole scene looked harmless enough; some lost wanderers asking for directions, perhaps? I saw no harm in approaching them... that is until I got closer and took a better look at their clothing.

It appeared they wore but plain blue frocks with a dull yellow trim but I could clearly see the faint outlines of plate armor underneath. There was only one group that donned such attire.

 _The Vigil of Stendarr... great._ I'd choose the scorching sun over meeting _those_ people anytime.

See, it wasn't like I hated them just because they actively hunted vampires. Many of my kind were monsters, that much was true. The reason I detested the Vigilants was much more simple; while they fancied themselves the protectors of the simple folk, to me they were just a bunch of under-educated, arrogant fanatics. Their way of spreading 'Stendarr's mercy' usually lay in rooting out Daedra worshippers and destroying their creations wherever they found them. All Daedra were evil to them without any exception and their fanatical hatred and black-and-white worldview led to many arbitrary killings.

But for all their self-righteousness, the Vigilants never knew the truth about Daedra, not that they'd ever bother to learn. True, many of the Daedric princes were undoubtedly, irredeemably evil, Mehrunes Dagon and Molag Bal being the worst of the worst. But condemning all of them as 'evil' felt wrong; many of them were neutral, while a selected few could be seen as benevolent, even. Azura, the Lady of dusk and dawn, or Meridia, the Matron of life (and supposedly a fallen Aedra) could be the main examples. Though opinions differ largely by culture...

But these Vigilants would never understand, they wouldn't even try to. If they realized what we were, the fight would be inevitable.

I glanced at Theo. He was fighting back a scowl but followed my lead. Laelette trailed behind him, hiding her face behind a hood. I couldn't turn back; if I suddenly turned around half-way towards them, they'd get suspicious. Damned if you do, damned if you don't.

Our best bet was to hope that these were novices incapable of telling a vampire from a...

The moment I saw their eyes, glowing red, my brain stopped working for a few seconds.

Vampires masquerading as Vigilants? The first time I saw such a thing. Another thing that caught my attention were their distorted faces; sunken cheeks, prominent cheekbones, and deformed noses, resembling bat's snout. A person with sufficient knowledge could tell a vampire from a mortal but I never thought these differences could get so... _extreme._

Surprise soon gave way to disgust as I noticed the bodies of the Vigilants they ambushed and killed. Each of the corpses was a bloody mess, with chunks of flesh literally bitten out. This was just brutal, needlessly so.

The vampires in the Vigilant garb also looked surprise to see another three of their kind. Maybe this would turn out alright, as in we wouldn't have to fight. I didn't deal with those of my kind that gave in to their vampiric urges but since they didn't attack us on sight, I was willing to make an exception this time.

The one in the front, a Dark elf made a step towards us and began sniffing at the air. Then his already hideous face contorted into an even more hideous scowl. "You don't belong with us." He stated with a small growl. His companions began glaring at us.

"Excuse me?" I didn't have the slightest clue what he meant. We were vampires too, weren't we?

"It means I don't _know_ any of you, and I remember every member of our clan." His tone grew more hostile as he spoke. "You either belong with another clan, or worse, you have _none._ Either way, I have nothing to say to any of you."

Theo took a step forward. "Look, we have no grief with-"

One of the Dark elf's underlings hissed at him. "Begone! You have no right to feast on our prey or trespass on our land. Be grateful we let you leave here alive!"

 _Of course, like if these four could take on a Vampire lord and survive..._

Theo tensed up, ready to spring into action if the other vampires tried anything. Laelette stood behind him, trying to make herself appear as small as possible. I wasn't interested in a fight, though; we had places to be.

"Fine, there's nothing more to be said." I said before things could escalate. "We'll leave."

The Dark elf vampire snorted. "Wise of you to recognize you're outmatched."

I glared at him. "Just don't try anything or you won't live long enough to regret it." Not giving him a chance to respond, I turned on my heels and began walking down the path, away from them.

Theo and Laelette caught up with me quickly. "That was risky," Theo whispered under his breath. "How could you be so sure they wouldn't attack us as soon as we turned our backs to them?"

"Call it a hunch." I told him. "It's common among our kid not to attack one another on sight... unless our respective clans are at war, which wasn't the case here, since they never saw us before." Unprovoked assaults among vampires were extremely rare. For a good reason; we were all children of Molag Bal, though not all of us saw him as 'father'.

"That makes sense, I suppose." Theo conceded, though he didn't sound content.

"I'm more interested in another thing, though." I continued. "If I understood correctly, those vampires belonged to a very strong clan... Certainly strong enough, if they claim this entire hold for themselves."

"If not the entire _province._ " Theo scowled. "When a clan strong enough to eliminate all competition emerges, it spells bad news."

"How could you be so sure?" I questioned. Yes, I could understand why the rise of a clan of vampire hegemons would unsettle him. There would undoubtedly be a rise in vampire attacks on settlements or cities, even, and no one would be able to keep them in check. Mortals wouldn't be the only ones in danger. The hegemonic clan would also attack lesser vampire clans, either to force them to submit or to eradicate them, should the first option fail.

However, aside from the affair in Morthal, I didn't see any signs of increasing vampire attacks. Or not yet, at least.

"I'm not sure." Theo denied. "All I'm saying is that we should be more careful from now on. We can't afford to make ourselves targets, now."

Laelette remained silent during our entire exchange.

"So, what do you suggest we do to improve our situation?"

"Well, we'll follow Vulpin's tracks to the Rift, see what we can find. After that..." He offered a small shrug. "We'll see. If we're lucky, we might meet Aressius along the way."

"I guess that's the only thing we can do now... other than aimlessly wandering around, that is." I glanced at the horizon and frowned. "But we should pick up the pace."

The skies in the east were turning red.

* * *

 _Falaere_

 _4th Hearth Fire, Eastmarch_

It was late in the afternoon when the three of us finally reached Kynesgrove.

We could've arrived sooner but there were some... events that delayed us.

First off, a severe thunderstorm had caught us off guard shortly after we left Ivarstead. It came suddenly and violently; before we even found some shelter we were already soaking wet. I experienced some extreme weather during my travels but this thunderstorm was fiercer than any I've seen before. And that was no exaggeration. All we could do was wait until it passed... and our clothes dried off. All in all, it was an unpleasant experience, though it was a breeze compared to what would follow afterwards.

In the late afternoon of 3rd Hearth Fire, we left the aspen woods of the Rift. The road descended to the lowlands filled with conifer trees and a large desolate looking plain behind them; the large caldera and its hot springs, that filled out about a half of Eastmarch. That's where we had to deal with another inconvenience. While we were setting up camp near the waterfalls on Darkwater river, a group of bandits attacked us, thinking us easy pickings. The bastards caught us off guard; a couple of brawny guys taking us head on while archers hung back, pelting us with arrows. Given how organized they seemed, far cry from most of the rabble I was dealing with since coming to this province, I was starting to think we were done for.

Until Farlas unleashed the full power of his Voice on them.

The thunderous roar of _'Fus Ro Dah'_ echoed throughout the land a for a good while after the Thu'um sent the brigands flying all over. From there, it was rather easy to do away with the bandit vermin; those who weren't killed by the Dragonborn's Thu'um fell either to my arrows or Lydia's sword.

I noticed that ever since that particular incident, Lydia looked at her Thane with what could only be described as reverence.

Our sleep was light that night because there was always the possibility the bandits might return while we were asleep. The worries proved to be needless, though; no one came to try and rob us or anything.

The next day, we descended to the large basin of Eastmarch. Our journey led us off the road after passing Darkwater crossing; Farlas was looking for a Word wall that was supposedly near a hill called Bonestrewn crest. In order to get there, we had to make our way through the hot springs. Admittedly, if it were any other time and I was alone, I'd fancy a dip. But, as Delphine would say, we couldn't afford any delays.

The Bonestrewn crest was placed almost precisely in the middle of the caldera. Curiously, the slopes and the foot of the hill were covered in mammoth tusks bones. I wondered if it had something to do with the giants' camp nearby. I had my concerns about being in such proximity to those enormous creatures but since they weren't aggressive, we left them alone.

As it turned out, the Word wall was located right at the Bonestrewn crest's summit. Fortunately for us, nothing guarded it. As usual, Lydia and I hung back while Farlas read the inscription on the wall. That's right, unlike us, he could actually read those seemingly nonsensical scratch marks. It went like this: _Pah werid sonaan Lunerio wen yuvon lovaas meyz fo het ko vulon._ Though he couldn't provide us with a complete translation, he could say the inscription honored a bard renowned in the ancient times. And he also gained a word of power: _Fo._

No idea what it meant but we would likely find out soon enough.

But anyway, Kynesgrove didn't seem like much to look at, in my honest opinion. I expected a village similar in size to Riverwood but what welcomed us upon arrival was just an inn, a couple of small houses and a large camp with several tents around a campfire.

I had to wonder why those people were even staying here, with Windhelm just a couple of miles away.

Not even the guards paid any notice to us as we walked towards the inn where Delphine was waiting for us. 'Braidwood inn', if my memory served me correctly.

"Look at the people over there," Lydia muttered and jerked her head towards a couple of commoners standing around the fire. "I don't think that dragon has shown up here yet, with how calm and carefree they look."

"Seems our _mystician_ was right, _again._ " Farlas chuckled.

I didn't even bother with a reply. They didn't know what it was like, to receive glimpses of the future hidden in visions that bordered on nightmarish, at times. I hadn't had a good night's sleep once in this week. It was the same thing every night; dreams of fire, ice and shadow of enormous winged creatures, ready to rend us apart.

The moment we entered the inn, we were welcomed by a nasal, unpleasant female voice. "Ah, another bunch of wanderers. Slummin' it on the way to Windhelm, are we?"

The next moment, she was shouted down by a woman at the bar. "Shut it, Gemma! We all know you're a real ray of sunshine but I won't have you chase away customers with that pleasant mood of yours!" The sarcasm couldn't be any clearer.

The woman named Gemma just mumbled something under her breath and went back to drinking.

The inn was largely vacant at the time. Aside from the rude woman, there were a few Nords clothed in a miner's garb. And the innkeep was ready to spring into action as soon as we sat down.

Before we could get ourselves some drinks, we were approached by Delphine. She looked way different in a set of well-maintained leather armor and with a strange sword with a thin, slightly curved blade, hanging at her belt.

Definitely more dangerous than we gave her credit for.

The Breton immediately dragged us into one of the free rooms. "Good, you're finally here." She said as soon as the door closed behind us. "I checked on the dragon mound as soon as I arrived. It's intact. It seems that whatever is bringing dragons back hasn't gotten here yet. And if this dragon got resurrected before we got here... this place would be a smoldering pile of ash by now." Delphine gave me a strangely calculating look. "It seems you were right, this time."

"And what if you're wrong?" Farlas butted in. "What if that 'pattern' you identified was wrong?"

"I wouldn't drag you all here if I wasn't completely sure about it." Came the curt reply.

"So, you got us all here, Delphine." I said. "What do we do now?"

"Now, we have to wait." She replied simply. "I suggest one of us stands guard throughout the night. That way, if... _things start happening_ up at the dragon mound, we'd get there fast enough to intervene. I'll go first."

Her suggestion sounded reasonable enough so none of us argued with it. It meant that three of us could rest easy for a time.

The next few hours dragged on longer than I would think possible. We booked a room to sleep in and bought ourselves a dinner... Afterwards, there was nothing to do but wait. It didn't take long for boredom to set in. And worst of all, the anxiety about the inevitable battle made it impossible to fall asleep.

I didn't know how the others coped with all that, but from what I saw, they didn't seem as restless as I was. I found it difficult to understand; I mean, none of us knew what we'd face up there!

Later that evening, as I tried to get some sleep I happened to overhear a conversation between Farlas and Lydia. Delphine was outside on the lookout at the time. I laid on the bad facing the wall so they didn't know I was actually awake... despite all my effort.

"May I ask you a question, my Thane?"

"You don't have to ask for a permission, Lydia." Farlas sounded tired. "If you have questions, speak your mind."

There was a moment of silence until Lydia gave an audible sigh. "I... I don't understand."

"Understand what?"

"It's the secrecy. I mean, what's so bad about being a Dragonborn to keep it hidden away from everyone? People of Skyrim would see you as a hero, the same way they viewed old Talos! Not to mention you're the Thane of Whiterun; even the most influential people in Skyrim would have to respect you!"

"I don't care about any of that!" The Dragonborn retorted. "I didn't come to Skyrim to seek glory, riches or fame! The only thing I wanted was a fresh start... and look where we are now. The moment I reveal what I am, I'll be _hounded from all sides_ , don't you understand? Masses grovelling at my feet, worshipping the soil I walk on, the local elites doing their damnedest to get in my good graces, I didn't ask for any of that, none of it means a thing to me. Besides, do you think all those nobles would want to get chummy with me out of respect? Sooner or later, I'd run into someone who'd want to _use_ me in their schemes, for their benefit and no one else's!"

He fell silent all of a sudden. It made me think he realized I wasn't actually asleep; I don't know how I'd explain that. Then, to my immense relief, he continued. "So far, people don't know who the famed Dragonborn actually is and I want it to remain that way, at least until I know where and with whom I stand. All I ask is that you respect my decision."

"I understand." The housecarl replied hesitantly. "I won't mention this to anyone."

"I'll take you up on that, Lydia. The less people know, the better."

I would be content to keep listening but my eyelids began growing heavy.

"What happens after we're done taking care of Delphine's dragon problem?"

"Don't know; who's to say it will end here? I just want to kill the damn lizard because it's the only thing that'll get Delphine to talk. I really want to get-"

My hearing failed me as I drifted off to sleep. _Finally..._

* * *

 _Early morning of 5th Hearth Fire, Kynesgrove_

For once I had a peaceful sleep, in spite of the circumstances. A shame it was violently disturbed when the door to our room suddenly slammed open. Delphine barged inside, her eyes darting frantically around.

"Wake up!" She half-whispered, half-shouted. "Something's happening!"

It was enough to rouse the Thane of Whiterun and his housecarl from sleep.

"What's happening?" Farlas groaned out, sitting up on his bed with noticable effort. Both he and Lydia slept with their armor on; that must've been an extreme pain, I thought.

"I... I'm not sure." The Breton sighed. _What?_ "The skies were clear, then suddenly out of nowhere, large clouds obscured the sky. It happened way too fast for a natural occurrence."

By that time, we all were on our feet, picking up our weapons. "You think it might have something to do with whatever is bringing dragons back?" Lydia questioned.

"I wish I knew for sure... but my gut feeling says it can't be anything else."

"Then there's no time to lose; we're going outside." Farlas stated. "What time is it, anyway?"

"About an hour until sunrise; hard to tell when it's overcast." Delphine replied as the four of us made our way to the inn's entrance. "Remember, we don't know what exactly is out there; be ready for anything."

We stepped out into the cold air of Skyrim just in time to see a terrified cry of "DRAGON!" And moments after, a large sinister shadow passed above us. I looked up... and my heart almost stopped. I could literally feel my blood going cold.

It wasn't just any dragon I just saw. It was the same beast that razed Helgen to the ground; red eyes, black skin, thorny scales and everything.

Farlas recognized him too, judging by his grim expression.

"Come on!" Delphine bellowed. "It's flying to the dragon mound!" True enough, the black dragon was circling above a plateau right above Kynesgrove.

We began making our way up the hill, as quickly as we could. So far it seemed the dragon didn't notice us; in fact, he completely ignored the settlement. I had no idea what to make of that.

"Lorkhan's eyes!" Delphine gasped as she got a better look on the winged menace. "Look at that big bastard!" She wasn't wrong. The dragon from Western watchtower was big, but he had nothing on this _black bastard_. It could easily swallow any of us whole, and that was no exaggeration.

Even as the dragon roared overhead, we crept up along the path, doing our best to stay out of sight. The beast seemed oblivious to everything else, interested only in the dragon mound.

I had a sinking feeling that it was behind the dragons coming back.

" _Sahloknir! Ziil gro dovah ulse!"_

I flinched involuntarily as the dragon's roar cut through the air. It's voice was deep and menacing. "What's it saying?" I whispered to Farlas.

"No idea! I'm not good at dragon language!" The Imperial whispered back.

"Keep your head down!" Delphine snapped. "Let's see what it does!"

We approached as close as we could without being noticed, hidden behind a large bush. In the meantime, the black dragon kept circling the mound. The ground shook subtly with every beat of its massive wings. Suddenly, it came to a halt, hovering over the mound.

"Steady! We don't know what's happening... Let's watch and wait!" Delphine whispered.

The dragon suddenly opened its jaws, filled with jagged sharp teeth... and Shouted.

" _Slen Tiid Vo!"_

A stream of blue magical energy left its jaws and connected with the dragon mound. A pillar of light rose from it, right into the sky, where it burned a hole through the thick layer of clouds.

A heavy rain started beating against our armors.

"This is worse than I thought..."

For once, we all agreed with the Breton.

The dragon Shouted again.

" _Slen Tiid Vo!"_

Something burst out of the mound. It was an enormous skeleton, a dragon skeleton in fact.

It began crawling out of the ground, letting out an unearthly shriek. Like if that wasn't terrifying enough, much to our shock, flesh began growing around its bones.

"By the Gods..." Farlas whispered, the terror clear in his voice. Delphine simply watched in silence, her lips drawn into thin line.

Within minutes, where once was a pile of bare bones, now stood another dragon. This one was silvery white with wings colored deep blue. The beast raised its head towards the black dragon hovering above.

" _Alduin thuri! Boaan tiid vokriiha suleyksejun kruziik?"_

" _Geh, Sahloknir. Kaali mir."_

There was nothing we could do but to listen to the strange conversation.

When I thought things couldn't get any more wrong, the black dragon turned its head right towards the place where we were hiding.

" _Ful, losei Dovahkiin? Zu'u koraav nid nol dov do hi!"_

"It knows we're here..." Farlas grunted through gritted teeth, going very pale in the face.

The black dragon suddenly switched to the common tongue. "You do not even know our speech, do you?" It growled menacingly. "Such arrogance, to dare take for yourself the name of _dovah_!"

Farlas reached for the greatsword on his back. "Get ready."

The black dragon turned back towards the newly resurrected dragon. _"Sahloknir! Krii daar joorre!"_ Then it took to the skies and flew away without a backward look.

That was a good news for us; I didn't think we'd stand a chance against the black dragon, let alone both of them. The bad news was, we were still left with the lesser dragon, and it was eager to destroy us.

Lydia acted first. The housecarl tore her sword out of the sheath and stepped out of the shelter, just as our winged adversary took off. "Let's kill the damn thing."

Farlas followed her, his greatsword out and ready to slice. I reached for my bow and Delphine mirrored my action.

This was going to be a fight of our lives... fight _for_ our lives.

"Aim for the wings!" The Dragonborn bellowed. "We have to get the bastard on the ground or we're dead!"

Alas, that was easier said than done. The dragon weaved almost effortlessly among all the arrows that were raining on him from the ground. I managed to score a few hits but those had almost no effect; it was like ants trying to kill a mammoth. And Delphine? I meant no disrespect but her skills with a bow couldn't match mine... and with each missing shot, her frustration grew.

"Stay still, gods-damnit!" From where I stood, it looked like if she was about to snap her bow in half.

The dragon continued to circle above us, as untouchable as ever.

" _Zu'u Sahloknir!"_ It roared. _"Hon Thu'umi ahrk nishind! Yol Toor Shul!"_

It spewed a torrent of hot flame out of its jaws, aiming right at Farlas. The Dragonborn countered with a hastily cast ward spell; it just shielded him from the raging inferno.

"Just keep firing! I'll distract him!"

"Are you crazy?!" Lydia screamed back. _Why did he say 'him'?_

"He's going after me!" Farlas explained, not keeping his eyes off the winged terror. "Until I'm dead, he'll be blind to the rest of you!"

I could clearly see his housecarl didn't have much confidence in his words.

The dragon dived down again. _"Thu'umiil los sahlo, Dovahkiin!"_ Several arrows were jutting out of its scaly hide but it seemed completely oblivious to them.

Farlas braced himself against the ground and waited. The dragon opened its jaws... and then the Dragonborn Shouted.

" _Fus Ro Dah!"_

The shockwave from the Shout met the dragon head on. It lost its balance for a few moments and almost ended up crashing into the earth. Unfortunately it managed to recover at the last possible moments and Farlas had to dive away from its path.

The dragon took off once again, glowering at the mortal than nearly blew him off the skies. _"Ful, nii los vahzah krif! Pruzah!"_

I put my bow away. Steel arrows were useless against a dragon's hide; it was time to try something with more... _punch._

"What are you doing?" Delphine questioned, not ceasing to shoot at the dragon.

The beast descended and turned right in a long arc, exposing its back and the entire span of its wings. _Perfect,_ I thought to myself; a chance to see if ice spikes had more of an effect than arrows.

I fired off several icy missiles right into its flying path. The beast roared in both pain and surprise as ice spikes began impacting on its body. It began maneuvering wildly in the air and suceeded in dodging most of the projectiles that followed. Despite its efforts, one spike tore a huge gash in the membrane of its left wing. It wasn't enough to bring it down, however it did lose some of its agility.

"Keep going!" Farlas encouraged. "We can kill it!"

I continued firing of one spell after another... and Delphine finally began scoring some hits on the dragon as well. While arrows only served to annoy the beast, the ice spikes did seem to cause some damage.

The beast growled as several projectiles hit it... and then decided enough was enough.

" _Zu'u ni faas, joorre!"_

It suddenly dived down and landed heavily just a few feet from Lydia, causing a small earthquake upon impact. Not expecting such action, Lydia stumbled... right towards the monster's massive head.

Farlas reacted quickly. Pointing his greatsword dead forward, he shouted _"Wuld!"_ , literally launching himself towards the dragon. It was about to snatch still disoriented Lydia into its jaws but jerked its head back right as a grey blur rocketed past. A long bloody gash appeared on its muzzle.

"Now!" Delphine bellowed, unloading another arrow at the dragon. "Get it while it's on the ground!"

I moved behind the dragon to get a clearer shot and continued launching spells without the danger of Lydia or Farlas getting in the way. The two of them were attacking the beast from the front.

"Lydia! Go for the neck!" Farlas roared, slashing wildly at the dragon's head. It responded by ramming its snout into him and knocking him on the ground. Lydia stabbed at its neck, only to be batted away by a swipe of its wing.

The dragon inhaled. _"Yol Toor-"_

And it got abruptly interrupted when Farlas shouted _"Fus!"_ right into its open jaws.

The dragon let out an unearthly shriek as flames exploded right inside its throat. Its blue reptilian eyes were literally bulging out, a response to what was most likely an unimaginable pain. I had no idea that dragon Shouts could backfire like this. The beast kept thrashing around, crippled by its own Shout.

It was time to end this.

Lydia ducked under the dragon's head and jammed her sword into its lower jaw. At the same time, Farlas maneuvered around its body, still convulsing in agony, and then swung upward, bringing the weight of the greatsword down with all his might. The blade dug deep into the dragon's neck, finding its way between the vertebrae and severing the spine.

The beast shuddered a few more times and then it went deathly still.

It took a few seconds before the realization set in. We made it. We killed the dragon... and survived.

"I'll be damned..." Delphine was the first to recover. "We did it!"

"I fought a dragon before," Lydia gasped, trying to catch a breath after the furious battle. "Doesn't get any easier, I tell you."

"Never mind that; the beast is dead!" The Breton walked closer to the dragon's enormous carcass. "I always wanted to take a closer look at one of those buggers..."

Then the corpse caught fire, just like I saw it at the Western watchtower and near Cold rock pass. Delphine flinched away from the dead dragon that began to burn with a bright yellow flame.

"Something's happening... Gods above!"

Lydia watched the spectacle with fascinated look in her eyes, just like the first time. The flesh melted away and dragon's soul rose up, hovering over the rapidly decaying carcass before it shot towards Farlas. The Imperial gasped and stumbled, fighting to remain conscious as he absorbed the soul. Lydia instantly shot to his side and caught him by the arm. There was no need, though as he stayed on his feet.

Farlas blinked and shook his head. "This... Sahloknir was definitely the stronger of them." He said weakly. _Sahloknir._.. so that was the dragon's name...

Delphine stared at him for a long while, rendered speechless by the entire scene. When she finally recovered enough to speak, her voice was trembling. "So the Greybeards were right, after all... You really are Dragonborn..."

"Well, here's the proof you needed." Farlas said, gesturing to the giant pile of bones that was the dragon's body. "Now, I believe you owe me some answers."

"I do, don't I?" She chuckled weakly. "Let's return to the inn, first. The locals will want to know the dragon won't be a threat anymore, not to mention some refreshment is in order after a fight like this."

"Fair enough. But then we'll talk."

Delphine nodded. "I gave you my word. I'll tell you all I know; nothing held back."

* * *

Author's note: _So, that concludes the battle at Kynesgrove. Next time, Farlas and co. will learn what they've just gotten involved in.  
_

 _To_ SarevokDothrakiDovahkiin: _Now that would be an interesting duel, wouldn't it? How would Ulfric fare against someone who can actually Shout back, unlike Torygg? It certainly wouldn't be a onesided battle... which is why Ulfric would avoid this eventuality like a plague, methinks :D_

 _Guest review from July 30: I have to correct you a bit here; Saliyah did fight Movarth (when he was mortal) and defeated him but she didn't actually turn him. Another vampire did that. It's described in the in-game book Immortal blood. Of course there's no mention of his fight with Saliyah, for obvious reasons :-) As for Vulpin, he was always a slippery bastard, hence why he survived so long after he helped to destroy Anthotis clan (and that happened before Oblivion crisis). That being said, it'll be a while before our heroes can even get to him. Anyway, thanks for the review and I'll remember your advice :-)_

 _Guest review from August 2: Great to hear from a fellow loremonger :-) I read a bit about the history of TES series and Bethesda starting making smaller worldspaces in order to decrease number of bugs. Daggerfall almost wasn't playable without multitude of patches, from what I read... But since this is a written story and not a game, there's no harm in expanding Skyrim._

 _And here goes the translations:_

Sahloknir! Ziil gro dovah ulse! _\- Sahloknir, ever bound dragon spirit!  
_

Slen Tiid Vo! - _Let your flesh be restored (lit. flesh against time)_

Alduin thuri! Boaan tiid vokriiha suleyksejun kruziik? _\- Alduin, my overlord! Has time come to restore the ancient realm?_

Geh, Sahloknir. Kaali mir. - _Yes Sahloknir, my trusted ally._

Ful, losei Dovahkiin? Zu'u koraav nid nol dov do hi! - _So, my false Dragonborn? I do not recognize you as a dragon._

Krii daar joorre! - _Kill these mortals!_

Zu'u Sahloknir! Hon Thu'umi ahrk nishind! Yol Toor Shul! - _I am Sahloknir! Hear my Voice and despair! Fire Inferno Sun! (Fire Breath shout)_

Thu'umiil los sahlo, Dovahkiin! - _Your Voice is weak, Dragonborn!_

Ful, nii los vahzah krif! Pruzah! - _So, it is (a) real fight! Good!_

Zu'u ni faas, joorre! - _I do not fear (you), mortals!_

 _As always, thanks for reading, review, favorite or follow; compliments and/or critique always welcome :-)_


	19. XIX) Of plots and tricks

Chapter 19 – Of plots and tricks

 _Farlas_

 _5th Hearth Fire, Kynesgrove_

After the once fearsome dragon Sahloknir became nothing but a pile of bones near the old burial mound, our first order of business was to check on the town. We assumed the great black dragon only showed up to resurrect one of his allies (or servants, none of us was sure) and then it flew back from whence it came. But since we were all too busy fighting Sahloknir to make sure, it was imperative to see that the people of Kynesgrove were alright.

Luckily, the small town was just as intact as it was when we first arrived. It turned out the townsfolk hid inside an old malachite mine nearby when the big dragon showed up. No one was hurt in the dragon attack, not physically at least. I could tell that some of them were pretty shaken by the unexpected turn of events. After all, it's not every day a gods-damned dragon appears and scares the entire settlement out of their wits _and_ brings back another dragon while it's at it.

But all of that was over now. Sahloknir was slain before he could even touch the town, the locals lived to tell the tale and could go back to their everyday lives.

Of course, there was still the matter of the Breton warrior and faux-innkeeper, Delphine. She did promise to answer any of my questions and I was still waiting for her to fulfill her end of the bargain.

Upon entering the Braidwood inn, we were welcomed by Kynesgrove's self-proclaimed leader Kjeld Rock-Eater, who thanked us for the timely rescue of 'his' town. His wife Iddra prepared a small feast just for the four of us, 'on the house' as she said. Well, we just did what every person worth their salt would do but... The battle took a lot out of us and we could definitely use some nourishment. Plus, refusing such hospitality seemed pretty rude.

I don't know if it was just me but after such a tough fight, the food seemed more delicious than ever. Same with the drinks. And the fact that no one around here seemed to realize I was the famed Dragonborn was a plus, too.

So we ate and drank until our stomachs grew heavy, unable to take any more. And it was at that moment when I decided to question the woman that got me involved in this dragon killing business.

"Alright, you promised to tell me anything I asked. Now it's as good a time as any. Who are you, and what do you want with me?"

Delphine took a swig of ale and began speaking. "Long story short, I'm one of the last members of the Blades. Possibly _the very last_ , I have no idea at this point."

I'd never heard of these 'Blades' before, and whoever they were, there was no telling why they'd be so interested in me. I was about to ask her to enlighten me but unexpectedly, it was Lydia who chimed in.

"Wait a moment..." The housecarl's eyes were suddenly the size of dinner plates. "The former protectors of the Septim emperors and spies of the Empire? _Those Blades?_ " It seemed she was better educated than I was...

Delphine nodded. "Exactly. I didn't expect anyone to even remember our name."

"But what business would these 'Blades' have with the-" Falaere cut herself off mid-sentence and glanced around the inn to make sure no one was listening in. Then she finished with "You know who I mean."

She sure was more discreet than my housecarl, I had to give her that.

"As I said, almost no one remembers that, but the Blades used to be Dragonslayers and servants to the Dragonborn." Delphine explained. "For the last two centuries, since the last Dragonborn emperor, the Blades have been searching for a purpose. And now, when the dragons are coming back, our purpose is clear. _We need to stop them._ "

"And how do you plan on doing that?" I questioned.

"I realize it's a long way to go, a lot of work to do. Gathering information, careful planning, that kind of thing." The former Blade admitted. "But as long as a single dragon remains alive, no one in Tamriel is safe."

"Especially that big black bastard; that one has me worried." I muttered. The damn thing could bring dragons from the dead, and we didn't even know if that was the full extent of its power. What if could create another of its kind from thin air or something?

"That is a tough one, I admit." Delphine said. "It'll require some research since it's obviously much unlike normal dragons... But that's beside the point right now."

"So what's our next move?" Lydia asked.

The Blade furrowed her eyebrow. "First, we need to find out what's behind the dragons returning. And believe me, getting the answers won't be easy."

And here's the catch...

"So what _do_ we know, so far?"

The Breton sighed at Falaere's question. "Other than the big black one bringing back all others, not a damn thing. Honestly, even I didn't see that one coming."

"You know," I began, carefully gauging her reaction. "I don't know if I mentioned it already but... The black dragon we saw here, it was the same that burned down Helgen."

All color slowly drained from Delphine's face. "Are you absolutely sure about that?" Even Lydia seemed surprised by that revelation.

"We're very sure." Falaere replied in my stead. "And something tells me we'll see more of him."

The Blade seemed to sink in her seat, her face dropping into her hands. "Same dragon... This is worse than a nightmare; we're blundering around in the dark here, damn it!" She slammed her hand on the table in frustration, startling a couple of other patrons. "We need to figure out who's behind all this, and fast!"

"Any idea where we might start?" I asked.

"Well, right now, the Thalmor seems like our best lead."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Falaere freeze in her chair, her hand squeezing the tankard of ale until her knuckles went white. My first thought was that the Elf had a history with those gold-skinned bastards. It made plenty of sense to me despite being a pure speculation at the moment. It's been more than a century since the Dominion took over in Valenwood and ever since, the Thalmor were cracking down heavily on the native Wood elves. Supremacist scum, always thinking they were better than anyone else on Nirn... Never mind their ideology, though; there was a reason the Dominion held half of Tamriel under their sway.

Even then it was hard to believe they could control something as immensely powerful as the black dragon from Helgen...

"What makes you think the Thalmor might be behind this?" I questioned.

"I have no proof... but my gut says it can't be anyone else." Delphine answered readily. "Besides, even if they aren't involved, they might know who is. They have a foothold in most of mainland Tamriel and usually they're very well informed so this is our best bet."

"I don't believe the Thalmor have control over the dragons. Back in the ancient times, it was mortals bowing to dragons, not the other way around." Lydia voiced her opinion.

"Maybe so, but who knows what really happened back then." The Blade countered. "Back to the point, though. I have a good reason to think they might be behind all this. Think about Helgen; the Empire had Ulfric in chains. The moment the headsman's axe cleaved through his neck, the war would be over. Then the dragons swoops in, burns Helgen to the ground, Ulfric escapes and the war is back on. And now that dragons are flying about attacking indiscriminately, both the Empire and the Stormcloaks suffer." She jabbed her finger into the table's desk, as if to emphasize her point. "Who else would benefit from that but _the Thalmor?_ "

In all honesty, I still had my doubts but Delphine brought up a fair point. And, if my memory served me, I did remember Thalmor Justiciars being present in Helgen during the execution.

Then Falaere spoke up and reminded me of one thing that Delphine let slip during our meeting in Riverwood. "Back in the Sleeping giant, you mentioned the Thalmor were after you. Why is that?"

The Breton's already poor mood instantly soured. "Oh right... Before the Great war, the Blades helped the Empire against the Dominion. At the time, our Grandmaster saw them as the greatest threat to the future of Tamriel, and as far as I'm concerned, that much is still true. So we fought them in the shadows, all across Tamriel." She said with a bitter edge to her voice. "We thought we were more than a match for them... We couldn't have been more wrong." Though she didn't say it explicitly, her tone made it clear she wasn't willing to elaborate on this.

"So, we need to find out who's behind the return of dragons. And the Thalmor are our only lead so far." I summed up our situation. "Frankly, I don't like this one bit but I guess we don't have any other option. How do we go about this?"

"The Thalmor embassy near Solitude is their center of operations here in Skyrim." Delphine explained. "If we could get inside, we'd be sure to discover something related to dragons... The problem is, the place is locked up tighter than a miser's purse." She chuckled humorlessly. "They could teach me a few things about paranoia..."

I couldn't believe that damn woman. Infiltrating a Thalmor embassy, of all places... That was a really tall order. I was sceptical we could get away with something like this. Lydia and Falaere seemed to share my opinion; the latter stared at the former Blade like if she completely lost her marbles.

"Have you gone completely mad, Delphine?!" The Wood elf hissed. "You have any idea of what they'll do to us if we're caught?"

"That's why we need to plan this very carefully." Delphine replied dispassionately. "I'm no miracle worker but I'll do my best to reduce any possible risks."

That didn't sound very reassuring... "Let's assume we agree to this mad gamble of yours." I interjected while Falaere was shaking with... Fury? Apprehension? Terror? I couldn't really tell. "How would you get us inside?"

Delphine scowled. "I'm not sure yet. Operations like this take pretty long to plan out. I'll need some time to pull things together."

"How long?" Falaere grunted. The look in her eyes could melt iron...

"I'll try to be as quick as possible but you won't hear from me for a while. A week at the very least." The Blade said. "Once things are all set I'll send you a letter and we'll meet in my hideout in the Sleeping giant. Just don't stray too far from Whiterun or Riverwood; the couriers are tenacious but can only do so much."

"So we just wait." Lydia said flatly.

The Breton nodded. "And don't attract much attention to yourself. Thalmor aren't know for taking their time to employ preventive measures."

And at that point, I couldn't help it but think: _What in Oblivion have we gotten ourselves into?_

* * *

 _Later that day, en route to Whiterun_

The four of us left Kynesgrove shortly after we finished the breakfast. There was no point in staying there any longer than necessary, given the gravity of the dragon matter. Not to mention the longer we lingered the greater the chance someone might figure out who I was... and I wasn't ready to reveal to the world that I was the Dragonborn. _Not yet._

Delphine split from us shortly after we crossed the White river near Windhelm, saying that we might attract the wrong kind of attention if we all travelled together. I didn't think that a good idea since a party of four had better chances in an ambush than the one of three, in my opinion. On the other hand though, Delphine was a former Blade, successfully hiding from the Thalmor for near 30 years. The woman was very good at covering her tracks, possibly better than most.

I still remembered her parting words.

" _Keep an eye on the sky... This is only going to get worse."_

I prayed to the Nine she were wrong...

While Delphine took the road leading up the Yorgrim river and through the Pale, the rest of us chose the route she used when on the way to Kynesgrove. While passing a large fort overlooking the place where rivers White and Darkwater met, Falaere got an idea to make a stop at Ivarstead. She remembered there was a Word wall in the Shroud Hearth barrow near the village. I wasn't really keen to delve into the place that gave the Wood elf those strange visions (and nightmares) but if I were to fight dragons, I couldn't just give up an opportunity to expand my knowledge of the Thu'um.

The mention of the Word wall reminded me of what I learned when I absorbed Sahloknir's soul.

Before the battle, there were two Words of power I knew of but their full meaning escaped me; _Feim_ , from Ustengrav, and _Fo_ , which I read on the wall on Bonestrewn crest. They just kind of floated around in the back of my mind. The moment Sahloknir's soul entered my body, things changed. Unlike the crazed beast we encountered at Cold rock pass, this dragon had powerful memories, strong enough to provide meaning for both words at once. It showed once more how little I knew of being a Dragonborn.

 _Feim_ – translating as 'fade;' the image of incorporeal, invulnerable spirit remaining while the body rotted away over time. _Fo,_ meaning 'frost;' crystals of frozen water sticking themselves to travelers trying to brave through an ice storm, sapping away their strength.

I'd only learn what exactly these words did by using them as a Shout but there was plenty of time for that.

Our plan was to cross the border into the Rift before nightfall, alas time flew by quicker than we expected. In the end we had to make a stop in Darkwater crossing, a small mining town located on the banks of Darkwater river, right beneath the waterfalls. It was about the same size as Kynesgrove, and beyond an inn and a small shop it didn't have much to offer to travelers.

But that wasn't a problem for us; all we needed was a place to stay overnight, and while the local inn was kind of cramped, it had food, drinks and lodgings for all three of us.

However, the battle with Sahloknir, the return of dragons and the possible involvement of the Thalmor caused that none of us had what could be called a good night's sleep. That went double for Falaere.

The thought of breaking into a Thalmor embassy didn't sit well with us but the Wood elf was outright freaking out. "I can't believe the damn Breton expects us to just slip into _that place_ and simply take what we need!" She ranted, frustration clear in her voice. By that time we had already retreated into our room so there was no need to worry about her causing a scene in public.

"She wouldn't undertake such endeavor without some sort of plan. You worry too much." Lydia brushed her off. She didn't seem pleased to have Falaere keep us all awake.

The Elf glowered at the Nord. "You don't know who you're dealing with here, do you, _housecarl?_ " She all but growled. "Once you get on Thalmor's bad side, you might as well consider _offing yourself,_ it'd be easier that way. Don't you know what they do to everyone they consider to be 'enemies of the Dominion?' Haven't you heard of the Night of Green fire? Sacking of Imperial city? Or the purges in Valenwood? How those opposing the Dominion suffer fates _worse than_ _death?_ "

I wasn't about to pry but her agitated rambling seemed to confirm my earlier suspicion. Falaere possibly had a run in with the Thalmor and it didn't end well for her. I could understand why she was acting that way... but, in spite of her opinion, I did have an idea what kind of people the Thalmor were. Ever since their Justiciars dragged my Ma away gods-know-where-to, I was pretty sure I hated the Thalmor about as much as any Stormcloak here in Skyrim. And while no one talked about it, there was no love for them even among the Imperials and the few allies they had left.

"Falaere, you have to calm down." I told her. "You don't know for sure how things will go; maybe we won't even have to get inside that embassy! Who knows what will happen?"

"That's the kind of luck we just don't have, Farlas." The Elf snapped back. "The day we first met, I was being ganged up on by bandits. Then we got arrested by Imperials and nearly burnt to death in Helgen. And now I'm expected to entrust my life into hands of some stranger I met mere few days ago, a secret agent who introduced herself by interfering with our mission and sending us on a goose chase." Her expression darkened. "If anything, it'll only get worse from here."

I didn't know what to say to make her feel any better about this situation, so I bid her goodnight, only for her to scoff and turn away on her cot. I was convinced the next few days were going to be a pain; if the Wood elf's mood didn't improve, then we'd end up being at each other's throats all the time.

There was the hoping that Delphine would have good news for us.

* * *

 _Saliyah_

 _Evening of 5th Hearth Fire, The Pale_

"I don't understand, Laelette." I shook my head in complete bewilderment. "Our kind can travel great distances non-stop without any great trouble. Why can't you?"

We had made camp in a small cave near the southern borders of the Pale, where the white snow was slowly giving way to the green of lush grass. Not by choice, though; Laelette was having trouble keeping up with us and I didn't want to push her too much. Her lack of strength did warrant some concern.

"How should I know?" The younger vampire hissed back, her features twisted in a pained grimace as she rubbed her feet. "I can't go on until I've rested a bit..."

"It might be that her _inadequate_ endurance is a consequence of her weak constitution as a mortal; she may have inherited that after being turned." Theo mused, earning a dirty look from Laelette. "I reckon physical conditioning is in order to overcome this disadvantage."

His words weren't met with much understanding from the youngest member of our party. "What do you want from me?" She snapped at him. "Walk until I drop? ... _Can_ a vampire even die from exhaustion?"

"A group is only as fast as its slowest member." Theo replied dispassionately. "You slow us down, Laelette, and that is simply a fact, not an insult."

Laelette didn't offer a reply beyond a heated glare.

Our journey to the Rift wasn't as simple as we envisioned it. The road from Dawnstar to Falkreath was blocked by a large fort near the borders of The Pale hold. Actually, it led straight through the fort, which was housing a large garrison of rebel forces. There was no way we could get past unnoticed and I didn't want to kill anyone unless there was no other option. An entire garrison slaughtered was bound to attract attention and dozens of angry Stormcloaks on our tail was the last thing we needed. Our only choice seemed to be backtracking and taking a long route along the northern coast and then through Wayward pass in the Icebound mountains. It's a good thing that I purchased a map of Skyrim during my short stay in Solitude otherwise we'd have much trouble finding out way around this damn province.

Since Laelette couldn't match our usual pace, we had to travel during daytime, only finding shelter in midday where the sun glared the hardest. Right now, it was evening and the skies were clouded over. Ideal time for travelling if only Laelette hadn't refused to keep going...

I stood watch at the cave entrance when Theo approached, a scowl etched onto his face. "We can't go on like this. If not for that fledgling, we could've at least been in Whiterun by now." He said quietly, frustration clear in his voice. "Either she starts actually trying to keep up or we're leaving her behind."

"I'm sorry but that's out of the question." I rebuffed him. "I can't just leave her; she won't survive on her own out there."

"The longer we tarry the greater the chance that Vulpin disappears once again." Theo argued. "The son of a bitch was escaping us for too long; he needs to-"

I cut him off when I heard agitated voices _nearby._ Well, since our kind has enhanced sense, 'nearby' really ment 'no less than three hundred paces'. "Stay here, I'm going to check this out."

I was on my way before Theo could even retort.

Cloaking myself with an invisibility power, I followed the voices. They were coming right from somewhere on the road. It sounded like some kind of confrontation; a few hostile voices on one side, and one defensive on the other. A bandit hold-up, maybe?

When I got close enough, I saw a small group of Vigilants surrounding a Dark elf in black wizard robes. These were definitely _not_ vampires.

"I do not believe you, _pilgrim._ " One of the Vigilants sneered. "There is nothing worth seeing in these parts of Skyrim."

The Dark elf crossed his arms. "What does it matter to you where I'm travelling? It's not a crime, is it?"

"It does and it is, actually."

The pilgrim frowned. "I beg your pardon?"

"We're no fools, Elf!" Another Vigilant barked, a woman this time. "There's only one thing your kind might be interested in; the Statue of Azura near Winterhold!"

"So what if it is? I don't understand why it upsets you!" Finally realizing his predicament, the pilgrim took a step back, only to be stopped by a Vigilant.

"So you admit it!" The leader exclaimed victoriously. "You confess to worshipping Daedra, blasphemer!" As one, all Vigilants drew their weapons.

"Blasphemer?! Azura was a member of the Dunmeri pantheon for as long as I can remember!" The Elf sputtered, his red eyes darting around in fright as the Vigilants closed in on him.

"Doesn't matter." The head Vigilant snarled, approaching with a bared sword in his hand. "Stendarr has no mercy for those who consort with Daedra... and neither do we!"

"You're insane! You can't do-" The pilgrim tried to escape but one of the Vigilants struck him from behind. The Dark elf fell to his knees coughing up blood... and that was when the leader cleaved his head from his body.

"What should we do with the body, brother Volk?"

"The Vigil of Stendarr cleanses souls." The leader growled. "Wildlife can take care of the bodies."

A wave of revulsion washed over me. I'd seen enough.

Turning on my heels I rushed back to our hideout, careful not to let them notice me. Only the necessity of staying unnoticed kept me back. Where those fanatics saw defending the world from Daedra's influence, I only saw coldblooded murder.

It was high time we were on our way, away from those murderers. Even if it meant I'd have to carry Laelette on my back.

* * *

 _Elaith_

 _Morning of 6th Hearth Fire, College of Winterhold_

Most of my time at the College was filled with teaching or counseling our students and working on my own research. Now that Phinis Gestor had returned from his visit to Morthal where he had some business with a former College member named Falion, I could venture out of Winterhold on my own agenda. Archmage Aren assured me he'd have someone take my position while I was away. He didn't say whom but as long as I wasn't left with a giant pile of paperwork after I returned, I didn't care.

I didn't make much progress with the final line of the prophecy of the Dragonborn, but I did have something. The moniker 'World-Eater' was attributed to an entity called 'Alduin'; what exactly that was has been a matter of long debates. For example, Alexandre Simon, a high priest of Akatosh in Wayrest, held that Alduin and Akatosh were one and the same and _"his story grew twisted and deformed through centuries of retelling and embellishment"_ by _"primitive peoples of Skyrim."_

Didn't make a lick of sense to me, though. Why would Akatosh, the _"force of supreme good in the world"_ would want to destroy Nirn?

Brother Mikhael Karkuxor from Imperial College said something similar in _Varieties of faith in the Empire._ According to him, Alduin was a Nordic variant of Akatosh, though he was far from good; _"a horrible ravaging firestorm that destroyed the previous world to begin this one,"_ the book said. Nords allegedly saw him as both a creator god and the harbinger of the apocalypse.

Perhaps the most interesting source turned out, surprisingly, to be Nordic lore. Even the error-ridden book by one uneducated lout Thromgar Iron-Head (a truly appropriate name) who argued that _"Alduin is real and it ent Akatosh."_ Anyway, the old Nordic stories and myths seemed to agree that Alduin is a completely different entity from Akatosh, a great dragon in fact. Not just any, though; Nords saw him as a sort of dragon king and enemy of all mortals who waged war against them until he was banished from the world in a particularly severe battle.

What I learned certainly was enlightening but the problem with folk lore was that there was no way to validate it. But if it turned out to be true... then the world was in grave danger. This information would have to be kept in secret for now, otherwise it could incite panic. None of the available sources gave a description of Alduin's appearance, only that he was extraordinarily powerful. My mind instantly wandered to the black dragon from Helgen. Could _that_ be the fearsome Alduin? If so, why weren't the dragons already burning down half the province?

Finding answers about dragon crisis was one reason why I embarked on a travel around Skyrim's major cities. The other one was the deal I made with General Tullius. He said it himself; in these times, the Imperial Legion could use any kind of help. There were still some acquaintances I made in the past. After the Great war, they all moved on with their lives... and some of them had a degree of influence in their respective communities. Maybe I could use that to my- _our_ advantage.

It went without saying that I'd have to be careful in holds under rebel control.

It was a few hours after dawn when I was leaving the gates of the College, wearing an armored robe without Imperial insignias and a travelling bag. Carriages rarely stopped in Winterhold so I'd have to do _a lot_ of walking. Not something a scholar would look forward to...

Crossing the decrepit bridge, I passed Faralda on the way. "I heard you'll be away on business again." The fellow Altmer remarked. The weather was clear for once, no sharp wind of heavy snowfall, a rare occurrence around Winterhold.

I nodded in response. "There are some things out there I need to take care of."

Faralda raised an eyebrow but thankfully didn't think of questioning me. "How long until you're back?"

"If things go well? I could return in two weeks."

"Let's hope it won't go like the last time." She huffed. "I should let you know that we've made progress with the excavations in Saarthal. At the current rate, the place will be accessible in a month. You better be back until then; there's a lot of work ahead of us."

Saarthal, the ancient Atmoran city, destroyed in a war against Falmer... Jarl Korir would throw a fit if he learned we were exploring (he'd probably say 'looting') the resting place of the ancestors of his people. "I'll be sure to remember that, Faralda."

She half-smiled and said "I'll hold you to that. Safe travels."

"Thanks. Take care, Faralda." With these parting words, I began walking down the path leading out of town.

* * *

 _Farlas_

 _6th Hearth Fire, The Rift, en route to Ivarstead_

Stopping for gods-know-what time, since I stopped caring to count long ago, I glared at the road before me that rose and twisted along the large mountain slope. "This sure is one hell of a climb." I said, panting tiredly.

None of my companions laughed at my attempt at a joke.

The journey went well enough after we left Darkwater crossing. That is, until the road turned to go uphill, very sharply in fact. Since most of the Rift was situated well above the area of Eastmarch so we knew there would be some climbing on the road, _this_ was beyond our expectations. Even after an hour of trailing up the enormous slope at a snail's pace, the mountain still seemed to loom over us. We were very high up already... and the end was nowhere in sight.

The Bonestrewn crest was little more than a hump in the middle of a caldera from where we stood. Even Windhelm, a great city of Skyrim, seemed _so very tiny._ And Kynesgrove, well, the village was practically invisible to a naked eye.

"There's a reason carriage drivers avoid this path," Lydia supplied. "Such steep incline would kill even the strongest horses." My housecarl was visibly exhausted as well.

"No kidding. We'll be lucky if it doesn't kill _us._ " Falaere chuckled humorlessly. I was inclined to agree; this was almost as bad as the Seven thousand steps. At least we weren't freezing our asses off in here...

"Let's go; the sooner we climb this damn mountain the better."

Though my body longed for a few moments (or hours) of rest, I resisted the temptation and pressed on. I mean, if I let one stupid mountain defeat me, how could I possible face off against dragons?

Luckily for us, the incline grew less steep as we continued and the climb became actually somewhat bearable. I lost track of how long we had walked already but some time later the road took a turn leftwards, away from a steep precipice to our right. It was quite a shame, because the view of Eastmarch and the surrounding lands was magnificent...

We were back in the aspen forests, typical for the Rift, though I didn't recognize the area we were in since we took a different route on our way to Kynesgrove.

"We're on the right path, my Thane." Lydia spoke up, as if sensing my confusion. "We avoided this area completely when we took the shortcut straight to Darkwater crossing."

"Right, that we did." I drawled as I looked around. "I think we should be in Ivarstead before nightfall."

We kept walking until we arrived to a bridge over a nearby stream... and stopped dead in our tracks for a bloody scene awaited us there.

An overturned wagon with pots, rugs, tableware and many other kinds of junk strewn around.

A carcass of a horse lying on its side only a few paces ahead of the wagon.

Multitude of arrows jutting out of the wagon, ground and even the dead steed.

And blood, lots of blood staining the ground where a battle took place.

I drew my greatsword and began approaching the scene, Lydia and Falaere following suit. A gorge on one side, a large cliff face on the other; this place looked ideal for an ambush.

"Brigands did this." The Wood elf observed. "Be careful; who knows who might still be skulking around."

Lydia frowned. "Where are the bodies?"

Falaere viewed the scene of carnage, kneeling down at one of several pools of blood. "The blood isn't fresh; this must've happened a while ago. Whoever did this already disposed of all corpses."

"If they took on a caravan, with bodyguards and everything, those brigands must be especially competent. Be on your guard." I scanned my surroundings, looking for any suspicious signs and sudden movements. But there was nothing.

For some reason, I liked this situation even less.

"The wagon had been stripped bare already." The Wood elf stated as she sifted through whatever was left of the wagon's cargo. "The wreckage might've attracted those who passed by after the incident; a perfect bait."

Then a shout came from a distance.

We turned around to see a single man run towards us over the bridge. The Imperial, judging by black hair and tanned skin, only stopped right before us, panting in exhaustion. "Thank the Gods I ran into someone in this Gods-forsaken land!" Even though his clothes were dirty and tattered, the man looked uninjured to our relief.

"Are you alright?" Lydia asked him.

The refugee nodded enthusiastically. "I am, now that I met you!"

"How did you end up in this sorry state?"

The Imperial's expression darkened at my question. "I'm a merchant; my caravan was passing through here when we got ambushed by bandits. Most of our guards were dead before we realized what was happening. Bastards ransacked my cart and murdered everyone who didn't manage to escape... except myself. I was being held hostage for over a week; probably thought they could ransom me. I only escaped my cell because the idiots got careless."

His story seemed to fit. While his clothes definitely saw better days, they were tailored from fine fabrics. "We're travelling to Ivarstead. Come with us and you're likely to get some help there."

"I thought about it but now..." He gave us an appraising look. "You three look like capable warriors. If you helped me kill those bandits and get my wares back... I could certainly put together enough coin to pay you."

Three of us against a whole bunch of bandits? Didn't sound easy but we saw worse odds before... Plus we could always use the money. "We might help out, but we need to know what we're up against."

"About a dozen of them; they set up camp in the ruins of castle Nilheim, just on the hill over there." The merchant pointed at the ruins on a cliff, in the direction where he came from.

"Outnumbered four to one..." Lydia intoned. "We'll have to play this one smart."

"We've fought bandits before; they look tough but run at the first sign of trouble." Falaere scoffed. "This should be easy."

"I can lead you to the unguarded side of the camp." The merchant offered. "Just lay low and don't let 'em see you."

I gave a curt nod. "Lead on, then."

We followed the merchant across the bridge; the Imperial went first, then Falaere and me, with Lydia closely behind us. The small dirt path sloped upwards through a thin forest before it twisted to the right in between the cliffs.

"We'll have to duck into the woods after we get through here."

The merchant was the first to make it past the gap between the rocks. Falaere went in next... and suddenly a large chunk of a cliff broke off and fell in pieces right on us.

"LOOK OUT!"

Our party was showered by a multitude of small rocks but we were lucky to evade the largest boulders. On the other hand, it also meant that our element of surprise was gone. Someone must've heard that racket...

"AMBUSH!" Lydia suddenly screamed.

Within the next few moments, we were cut off by a number of men, armed to the teeth, that seemed to just pop up out of nowhere.

With dread I realized they were waiting for us. It all became clear when I saw the merchant pull out a dagger and lunge at Falaere who didn't see him coming, too busy firing arrows at the incoming bandits.

I blocked a strike from one of the bandits and instinctively retaliated, scoring a hit. Then an arrow bounced off of the back plate of my armor. This single distraction proved fatal. As I tried to find the archer, something hit me hard in the head and the world went instantly dark.

* * *

Author's note: _And here goes yet another cliffhanger... I guess you'll just have to wait 'till next chapter how things turn out. Sorry._

 _I'm sure you noticed I took some liberties with how unlocking the Words of power works. If one dragon soul could unlock only one Word, the Dovahkiin would have to genocide the shit out of dragons. While it might make sense in the game, I don't think it could work that way in "real life". So I decided to keep the one soul-one Word thing for unnamed dragons, while the named ones have more powerful souls that unlock every word that doesn't have a meaning to it yet. That's how our Dovahkiin learned_ Feim _and_ Fo _both at the same time._ _  
_

 _Over time I might include the content of some Skyrim mods into this story (I'll be sure then to give credit where credit's due, of course). Other writers do it too so there's probably nothing wrong with it, I hope._

 _To_ JD98: _That's exactly what I'm striving to do here. :-) Capture the personalities of characters as they were in-game and avoid writing any Mary-Sue and Gary-Stu kind of OCs. And also filling up Skyrim worldspace but I already did mention that. Thanks for the review :-)_

 _Guest review from August 3: I don't know what you mean but I like to think I know a lot about Elder Scrolls lore and I'm still learning. It's necessary for the kind of things I do, after all. Cheers!_

 _Guest review from August 5: Well, it's an interesting idea but I wouldn't know where to go with it. I don't know that much about Dracula but as far as stories go, he's the most powerful vampire and can control lesser vampires, but in my opinion he's more like Molag Bal. He created vampire kind and can control them (indirectly) and like Dracula, he desires to dominate the world, but he's a divine being, not a vamp. And vampires in Elder Scroll universe are much more diverse. I don't know what would happen if Dracula popped up in Tamriel. Just thinking here._

 _To Dragon Man 180: I always thought the Thalmor agents only attack after the quest 'Diplomatic immunity' is done. If so, then you're in for a long-ass wait :-) Anyway, what bugs me about the quest is that you give_ your real name _on the invitation. I think that should've been thought through better, like inventing a false, completely new identity or altering the Dovahkiin's look a bit, but I guess you can't get past some in-game limitation. I think that could be a good idea for a mod though, if there isn't already out there._

 _ _As always, thanks for reading, review, favorite or follow; compliments and/or critique always welcome :-)__


	20. XX) Nilheim (M)

Chapter 20 – Nilheim

 _Farlas_

 _Evening of 6th Hearth Fire, The Rift, ruins of Castle Nilheim_

Splitting headache, disorientation, pain, noticable absence of my clothes... This situation reminded me of how I got in Skyrim. Only this time I wasn't in a cart full of other prisoners, and there was no clatter of wooden wheels rolling over the cobbled path.. It took me a while to realize it but my situation was completely different now.

I remembered our lost battle against bandit... and the slimy rat masquerading as a merchant who led us right into ambush. I didn't know how long time had passed since I got knocked out, or if Falaere and Lydia survived. My stomach turned at the thought that I possibly led them to their death... or worse.

But first, I had to find out just where the heck I was.

I couldn't hear anything. My ears were still ringing. Just what did they knock me out with...? My vision, blurry at first, finally started coming back to normal, though. I could make out the details of my surroundings.

Dim yellowish light from the torches, dirt floor, moldy stone walls covered in moss, iron bars...

I was in a dungeon, lying on my side, no doubt in the ruins of the castle I saw near the ambush site. My equipment was gone; the armor, my blades, the backpack, the bandits stole it all and dumped me in here. All I had were leather pants and a roughspun shirt. Just great.

The cell I was kept in was tiny, four paces long and maybe three paces wide. It was completely bare too, aside from a tattered sleeping bag.

 _Why didn't they just kill me?_ I couldn't help it but ask. Maybe holding me to ransom, then I had no idea who would possibly pay the money. Slave labor was more likely...

My train of thoughts was interrupted when I started hearing approaching footsteps. And angry voices...

"You sure about this, Hjor?" A male, sounded worried... somewhat. "Telrav gets to decide what we do with the prisoners. If he got wind of this-"

Hjor, presumably another male, laughed; his voice was deep, raucous. "What are you afraid of, Filadan? The rest of the band won't tell him squat; they better not after I promised them my share of coin from the latest raid, anyway." A smacking sound resounded throughout the dungeon, followed by a high-pitched yelp. "Besides, don't you wanna have a go at this wench, too?"

"Leave me alone, you pig!" I knew this voice...

 _Lydia?!_

"Of course I do, it's just- Is it worth the trouble we get into?"

"Come on, Telrav gets to bed the prettiest girls, like that little elf he took to his tower, and we're left with nothing!" Hjor snapped back. "I want some fuck, too, and no one stops me from getting what I want!"

This was bad...

I tried to move but for some reason, my body refused to obey my commands. The world around me was all foggy, like if I were in a haze. Anger bubbled somewhere deep inside me. Above us, this Telrav character was defiling Falaere, Lydia was about to share her fate and I couldn't do a damn thing!

The two bandits dragging Lydia, a Nord and a Wood Elf, stumbled into my view, all of them unaware I was awake. The housecarl was in a similar state of undress, wearing only short pants and cotton shirt. Even with her hands bound behind her back, she struggled tirelessly against her captors.

"Hands to yourself or I'll bite 'em off!" The housecarl threatened, fearless even when manhandled by the brigands.

"Oi, she's a feisty one!" Hjor grinned cruelly. "I'm gonna enjoy taming her!" Lydia stiffened momentarily when one of the Nord's large calloused hands started roughly fondling her breasts. The she redoubled her effort, thrashing around so wildly that the brutes had trouble keeping their grip on her.

"You really wanna do it here?" The Wood elf questioned. "Others might hear; you know how sounds carries throu-" He grunted in pain when Lydia stomped on his foot.

Hjor had enough of playing around and brutally socked Lydia in her face. The sheer force of the blow sent her face first into a wall, leaving her stunned... and completely defenseless.

 _Shit, I gotta get out of this cell!_

"They won't hear anything!" Hjor hissed at his partner in crime and pushed the dazed woman against the wall, tugging roughly at her shirt.

The fog clouding my vision slowly started dissipating a feeling began returning into my limbs. I didn't know why I couldn't move earlier but that didn't matter. _I have to stop those bastards!_

I rolled onto my back only to choke out a gasp as sharp pain shot through my body. And the bandits heard it.

"Looks like someone's finally awake." Hjor barked at Filadan. "Go take care of that milkdrinker; I've got my hands full right now!" Filadan huffed in displeasure but obeyed and started walking towards my cell.

One more forceful tug and with a loud ripping sound the fabric finally gave away. Lydia gasped as she suddenly found herself naked from waist up, her breasts spilling out of the confines of her ruined shirt. The Nord instantly began groping at them, pressing Lydia against the wall to keep her from fighting back.

"NO! Don't you fucking da-" She was cut off mid-sentence when the bandit slammed her head against the wall, leaving her half-unconscious. He then continued his ministrations, getting bolder with each second.

 _Damn it, I really want to kill him..._

The door to my cell opened with a high-pitched squeak. The Wood elf entered my cell, holding a large club.

"A little early, are we?" He asked mockingly, regarding me with a wicked smirk. I noticed the dagger poking out of his left boot. _And_ he left the cell door open. _Perfect..._ "Don't worry, stay still for a moment and you can nap for a few more hours. _Or forever_ , at worst."

Lydia let out a choked moan. I saw Hjor's hand dip inside her trousers.

Filadan raised his club. _Alright, it's now or never!_

I sprung into action. I rolled onto my side, spun around and slammed my legs into his. Filadan the Wood elf fell heavily on his back, winded and dazed by the impact. The club clattered out of his grip. Then I punched him in the throat just to make sure he'd stay down. The next step: take his knife. The bandit couldn't stop me, struggling to breathe through his bruised windpipe.

Then the other bandit, Hjor, noticed what was going on. Shoving Lydia onto the floor, he drew his axe and ran at me. "I'M GONNA CRUSH YOU LIKE A BUG!" He bellowed in fury.

Hjor had armor and a better weapon, while I had nothing except the small knife. But unfortunately for him, I had a few tricks on my own.

Just as Hjor raised his axe, ready to cleave me in two, I Shouted.

" _Wuld!"_

I shot forward and slammed into him. Both of us flew against the wall. The impact would've probably killed both of us... but I could use my foe as a cushion. Hjor wasn't that lucky...

A loud crunching sound resounded through the dungeon as the two of us hit the wall. I stumbled and fell to my knees and my _everything_ were in pain. I was still better off than Hjor who slumped lifelessly to the floor. Well, if the sheer impact didn't kill him, the stab wound in his chest surely did the job.

My attention shifted to the Wood Elf struggling to his feet. Using every bit of strength I had left, I ran towards him and socked him in the face, knocking him on the floor again. Then I picked up his club and started beating him with it.

His pleas of mercy died with the second blow. I didn't stop until his face was but a bloody paste.

Even with the two bandits dead, I couldn't affor to stop. Telrav's band numbered at least a dozen men and some of them must've heard the racket. And we had to rescue Falaere, who was left at the mercy of Telrav, whoever _that_ was...

Lydia turned away from me as I approached her, hiding her exposed chest from my view. "Come on, let me cut those ropes off."

A few moments later the rope binding her hands fell to the floor in pieces. The housecarl instantly used her now free hands to cover her breasts.

I couldn't help it but roll my eyes. It wasn't like the woman had anything I hadn't seen already and besides, I already got an eyeful when I was trying to escape our predicament. And were it any other situation, I sure wouldn't complain-

 _Shut it, bad thoughts!_

"You can take the Wood elf's armor, it should fit you better." I suggested. Filadan, or what remained of him, wore a simple set of studded leather armor. It couldn't boast the kind of protection a heavy armor provided but it would give Lydia a chance, at least. "I reckon we'll have to fight our way out of here and I won't have you running around half naked."

"Maybe it was a bad idea to use the Thu'um, then." The housecarl replied tersely. "We could have some element of surprise, otherwise-"

"They'd still see both of you coming."

Both of us jumped in surprise at the voice coming from one of the other cells.

There was a male Khajiit leaning against the bars, wearing rags that only covered his privates and barely anything else. I had no idea I weren't the only prisoner down there...

"The bandit filth has guards placed all over the fort." The Khajiit continued. "It's impossible to sneak out unseen. This one should know; he tried it before and was punished severely when caught."

"How did you end up here?" I asked him.

"Ra'zahirr assumes you saw the remains of a cart on the road nearby?" I nodded slowly as I stripped Hjor's corpse of the old chainmail. Lydia did the same with the other bandit. "That used to be this one's trade caravan. So many died, most during the ambush and the more unlucky ones in captivity..." The Khajiit said, his teeth bared in a disgusted grimace. "Ra'zahirr and his cousin Do'khar are the only ones left."

Even down here I could hear sound of alarm coming from above. The bandits knew something was amiss... We had to hurry.

"This one promises to help you regain both your freedom and your possessions if you let him out of this cell!" The Khajiit pleaded, clutching at the bars with his clawed hands. "Khajiit does not wish to spend the rest of his life in here!"

I had just finished fastening the last buckle on my armor. I've never used anything other than a sword in my entire life so Hjor's war axe felt too big and unwieldy in my hand. I could only hope this wouldn't get me killed in the end. Lydia was also ready to fight, armed with a club and wearing Filadan's leather armor.

Our lousy equipment didn't really fill me with much confidence. A single mistake and our attempt at jailbreak would end with our death. But we didn't have much choice at this point.

I knew we had our own problems, that our situation was difficult enough without a prisoner with no weapon and barely any clothes to look after. But I just couldn't leave the Khajiit to his fate. _Me and my damn soft heart..._

But how to get him out of the cell? I couldn't pick a lock to save my life and neither could Lydia. Maybe Ra'zahirr... _That_ is _his name, right?_ Hard to tell since Khajiit often refer to themselves in third person... Anyway, maybe the Khajiit could do it himself if we gave him some lockpicks. Assuming we could even find any...

The Lydia pressed a bunch of keys into my hands. "I found this on the Wood elf. It might be helpful should you decide to take him with us." She said, looking pointedly at Ra'zahirr.

 _Oh right, Filadan unlocked my cell with one of these..._

I started trying out all keys on the ring to unlock Ra'zahirr's cell. At the third attempt, the key turned inside the lock and the door opened with a squeak. The Khajiit walked out and picked up a dagger lying on the floor, the same one I killed Hjor with earlier.

"No point in standing around much longer." Ra'zahirr hissed. "It's time to pay Telrav and his comrades back for their _kindness._ "

A moment later, a couple of men in worn studded armors barged inside the dungeon. I turned to face them, Lydia and Ra'zahirr standing at my sides.

"You know what to do." I snarled. "Let's gut the bastards." _And then we'll come for Telrav, too._

* * *

The battle at Nilheim was a bloody massacre.

The sun was hanging low above the jagged mountains in the west. We got rid of the thugs in the dungeon easily enough but once we made it out, odds were stacked against us. To our misfortune, when we emerged out of the underground, we found ourselves in the courtyard of the ruined castle, and smack in the middle of the bandit camp. There was still at least ten brigands out there, including their leader Telrav, and all of them armed to the teeth.

It was a tough fight, especially with the archers on the remains of the walls, firing arrows at us without pause.

The first man to come at me was a bit too confident, swinging at me with a war cry and leaving himself wide open. It didn't end well for him; moments later he lay dead on the ground, his skull split open. The next one to attack was more cautious after witnessing what became of his friend, though. I parried his attacks easily enough but he was no slouch either; I couldn't find an opening in his defense. On the contrary, I nearly found myself ran through when an arrow bounced off a wall nearby, distracting me for a fraction of a second.

Lydia was handling herself well enough, ditching the clumsy mace for a sword at some point. It was difficult to keep track of her when I had to fight off bandits _and_ evade their arrows.

Ra'zahirr seemed to vanish into thin air, I couldn't see him anywhere. For a moment, I thought he ditched us, making his escape while the battle raged on. _I should've known better than to trust a cat man..._ Then I saw one of the archers collapse in a heap and fall off the wall with their throat slit. A dark shape crept along the wall, heading unseen for another bandit. It looked humanoid but I couldn't tell who or what it was... until I noticed the outline of a tail.

 _So that's where you've gone, Ra'zahirr, you sneaky bastard..._

An alarmed cry distracted my foe and he looked around, away from me. I took advantage of his mistake and slashed him across the chest and then once more in the throat. When he fell over dead, I took his sword. Axes were just too clumsy for the fighting style I was used to.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ra'zahirr claim the life of another brigand. _Only six to go now..._

The surviving brigands started panicking when they noticed their friends dropping like flies. They were so focused at us that they didn't notice Ra'zahirr dispatching them one by one with unexpected easy. He moved quickly and silently, killing his enemies with a single smooth slice across the throat... Like if he practiced it every day. I had a feeling that the Khajiit wasn't just some innocent trader...

The three of us were pushing the bandits back to a tall run-down tower overshadowing the remains of the castle. Near the stairway I saw a large iron cage with what I assumed to be some breed of sabercat but larger, with reddish brown black-striped fur, but I didn't think much of it. There were bandits to be killed, after all.

Another thug tried to slice me in half. I dodged the strike and retaliated with a wide cut that cleaved off his sword arm. The poor bastard screamed in agony, clutching at the bloodied stump. Like the good guy I was, I ended his suffering by ramming my blade through his heart.

Lydia was squaring off against a brute of a woman with a warhammer; she sported some impressive physique that many a man would kill for. It made me fear for my housecarl; Lydia was one heck of a warrior but her foe seemed to dwarf her. It was like a man going against an enraged frost troll.

I parried another attack and kicked the offended in the chest, knocking him back. I moved to help Lydia fight off her giant attacker but suddenly an arrow whizzed right in front of my face, making me freeze in place.

Glancing to the direction where the arrow came from, I saw a man with a bow in his hands, moving down the stairs to the tower and nocking another arrow. _Telrav, I presume..._ The leader of this sorry band of lowlifes finally made his appearance.

What made my blood boil with anger was, that Telrav and the poor robbed merchant that lured us into the trap were one and the same person. Then there was his noticeable state of undress; all he wore besides breeches were boots and a plain cotton shirt, both visibly unlaced.

I had a sinking feeling we were too late to save Falaere from this maniac... which only served to fuel my anger.

 _I've had enough of this..._

" _Fus!"_

Lydia's foe was nearly knocked over when my Thu'um slammed into her side. The housecarl took her chance and swung at the brute's neck, chopping her head clean off.

Telrav and three other fighters were all what remained of the feared bandit clan... and those three began backing away once they realized they were fighting a lost battle. One by one, they began tossing down their blades, and took to their heels in a mad dash to escape with their lives. Ra'zahirr picked up a discarded axe from the ground and tossed it in one smooth and graceful movement. Moments later, one of the fleeing brigands dropped to the ground, the axe sticking out of his skull.

Needless to say Telrav was furious to see everything he had built crumble into dust before him. "Useless, all of you!" He screamed in rage, firing at the Khajiit who deftly evaded the incoming projectile. "Guess I'll just have to kill all of you by myself!"

"Good luck with that, you stinkin' pile of shit!" I growled under my breath, ascending quickly the stairs to the tower. Telrav saw me coming and nocked another arrow. I wasn't about to give him an opportunity to drop me before I could even get to him.

" _Feim!"_

I didn't know what made me use this particular Thu'um, but it turned out to be a good call. Within a moment my body became incorporeal, glowing a ghostly light shade of blue... and the arrow coming at me just passed harmlessly through my head. There was no time to take pleasure in the stunned look on Telrav's face.

"What in the-"

I closed the distance between me and the bandit. The moment I grabbed his bow my body suddenly materialized. Not giving it much thought, I ripped the weapon out of Telrav's hands. The bandit leader was so shocked by the feat that he didn't even try and resist. Dropping the sword I socked Telrav in the face twice and then slammed my knee into his stomach. When he doubled over in pain I followed with an uppercut that nearly knocked him off his feet. I grabbed him to keep him from falling only to toss him down the stairway and watch with satisfaction as he rolled all the way down to the courtyard where he came to a stop, very much unconscious.

"Get some rope and tie him up!" I shouted at my companions down in the courtyard. "We'll decide what to do with him later."

"This one likes the way you think, friend!" Ra'zahirr grinned, showing his sharp teeth.

Picking up my sword from the ground, I entered the tower.

The inside of the tower was a mess, just like the rest of the castle. Broken furniture, food and other supplies scattered randomly around the room, dreadful stink permeating the air; I couldn't imagine living in this filth. The first floor was empty so I headed up the creaky staircase, ready to cut down anyone who got in my way.

About halfway up, I caught a soft moan coming from above. My grip on the sword tightened as I recognized the voice. It was in that moment when I simply threw all caution in the wind and stormed up the stairs.

However, the scene that awaited me in the tower's upper floor had me rooted to the ground.

I saw _her,_ kneeling on the floor with her hands bound behind her back and tied to her ankles. She was completely naked, every inch of her body exposed. There was a thick creamy white liquid dripping down her neck, chest and stomach. It confirmed my worst fears.

 _Too late... Damn it all!_

It seemed hard to believe but seeing her like this, after being _used_ in the most deplorable way possible, wasn't the worst. It was the strangely vacant expression, glassy eyes... and the fact that she was actually rubbing herself against the leg of a table, like if being ravaged by bandits for Gods-know-how-long weren't enough. Exhausted and barely able to stay upright, she still kept at it, like if desperate for a relief...

Falaere, one of the strongest people I've met so far, was reduced to little more than a quivering wreck of a person. _What did they do to her?_

She paid me no mind as I slowly approached her. "Falaere?" I tried, but to no effect. Like if the world didn't exist to her. "Fal? Do you hear me?" My voice almost broke. "It's me-"

Then she stopped and lazily turned my head in my direction. It was then when I saw it; her eyes were almost completely black. The pupils were so dilated that the irises were seemingly gone. A telltale sign that she was drugged, heavily.

It was almost impossible to suppress the wave of revulsion that washed over me. I walked behind her and cut the ropes restraining her arms and legs, then picked up some furs to cover her with. She couldn't even stand so I had to carry her.

As I walked out of the tower with the small elven woman in my arms, I couldn't help it but feel like if I were in a nightmare. _How could this happen?_ Falaere just hanged limply in my arms, looking completely shattered... and I didn't know how to help her.

My thoughts drifted to the man who caused all this. Telrav had a lot to answer for... and if need be, I'd readily beat said answers out of him.

* * *

Telrav, the only survivor of the battle was tied to one of the training dummies in the courtyard. Lydia was standing guard nearby, regarding him with a particularly severe glare. Ra'zahirr was tending to the sabercat kept in the cage near the staircase to the tower, to my surprise. I didn't see the point in tending to a wild animal.

"Aren't you afraid it'll attack you?"

Strangely, Ra'zahirr frowned at my question. "This one believes you misunderstand. What you see here is no beast. His name is Do'khar, the cousin this one mentioned in the dungeon. He is what Khajiit refer to as Pahmar-raht-"

"A what now?" I asked, completely puzzled.

The Khajiit was about to elaborate but the reply died on his lips when he spied Falaere. "Would you put the Elf down? This one wishes to take a look at her." He said, his demeanor grave.

"Do you know what's wrong with her?"

"Khajiit has a suspicion, yes."

I set Falaere on the ground, slowly as to not hurt her further. Ra'zahirr knelt to her and started examining her.

Suddenly the cat in the cage let out a series of guttural growling and hissing sounds and to my utter surprise, Ra'zahirr responded in kind. I realized they were speaking, using a strange language I've never heard before.

As if sensing my confusion, Ra'zahirr said. "Apologies, Do'khar has no knowledge of common tongue. He only speaks Ta'agra, the language of our people."

It finally dawned on me. "So i- _he's_ one of yours, then...?"

The Khajiit nodded. "Different breed but same race. Anyway, he says she smells of Dibella's kiss-"

"And what the heck is that?" I frowned.

I heard a gasp and turned around to see Lydia approach. "By the gods, what happened to her?" She exclaimed, her expression one of shock.

"They drugged and raped her." I replied tersely. "Don't know what they gave her."

My housecarl's expression changed to downright furious.

"It's called Dibella's kiss." Ra'zahirr repeated. "An aphrodisiac originated in Elsweyr; no one knows its recipe as it is a strictly guarded secret. It's very potent and overdose can be lethal." He shook his head. "This one wonders how this rabble got their hands on it. Our caravans usually don't deal with wares like this; Khajiit reckons it must've been a special order, one that never reached its intended destination."

"What exactly does this stuff do?" I questioned. Somehow I knew that I wouldn't like the answer.

"Depends on the dose. If you exceed the lethal quantity, it will kill you. This one heard of a lady who overdosed massively and died during the, ahem, act. The healer who examined her said her heart quite literally burst open."

Lydia winced. "Internal bleeding, bad way to go."

"As Ra'zahirr mentioned, Dibella's kiss is very potent. You should never take more than a few drops at a time." The Khajiit winced as he put away the furs covering Falaere. Her nether regions were swollen and angry red from the abuse. "If you take too much, it will... do things to your mind."

"What things?" Lydia narrowed her eyes.

"It will make you lose all inhibitions, first off, become very _willing._ In many ways it's similar to drug addiction, except that you would crave the pleasure from sex, almost madly so..." _Like a rutting hound,_ I finished mentally. "Secondly, overdose would make it increasingly difficult to control your body. Your movements would become uncoordinated, sluggish. This state would last for hours and for the entire time you'd be in no condition to resist should anyone try and take advantage of you." Ra'zahirr grimaced. "The brigands knew the effects overdose had on subjects and were all too willing to use it."

This was making me sick to my stomach. How could anyone be capable of doing something so _monstrous?_

"How long 'till it wears off?" Lydia asked quietly.

"Two hours? Three? This one is unsure." The Khajiit sighed. "All we can do is wait. Khajiit suggests you go and look for your things. They are certainly hidden somewhere around here."

I gave a slow nod. "As good an idea as any, I guess. What about you?"

"This one will stay here, keep an eye out." He bared his teeth. "On both friends and enemies."

* * *

The sudden eerie silence that reigned over the ruins of Nilheim didn't bother me in the slightest. I was just glad we got rid of Telrav's bands before they could commit even worse atrocities.

Finding the place where the bandits stored their loot wasn't too hard. There wasn't really much left of the castle beside the outside walls, dungeon and the tower. Out of all buildings in the castle, only one remained and it was in a pathetic state. The inside of it was damp and moldy, its furnishings smashed into splinters, the roof half-collapsed and leaking, and the upper floor falling apart. This was probably where the bandits slept as in there was no other place... except the tower which Telrav took up for himself.

At first we saw no trace of our stolen gear and were about to look somewhere else until I noticed a staircase leading downstairs to what probably used to be a wine cellar.

It was right there where we found what we were looking for... and then some.

Not only we found our gear but there was plethora of various valuables, too.

Gems, jewellery, rare weapons and armor, even ingots of gold and silver, and several heavy bags of Septims. It made me wonder why would Telrav hoard it like that. I mean, he could've easily sold it all off to make even more money.

Well, his loss and our gain. The castle was ours, we had all the time in the world. As soon as Falaere got better, we'd split the loot and be on our merry way. Besides, I thought Ra'zahirr might be interested in some of that, too.

Better weapons and armor were just too good to pass up, though.

The iron armor I made on the first day in Riverwood was falling apart. Fortunately, there was a set of Orcish style armor tucked away among all the loot and it fit me perfectly when I tried it on. I also swapped the Legion issue short-sword I picked up back in Helgen for a blade made of Dwarven metal.

Lydia wasn't so lucky. There was a set of steel plate armor that could be the perfect size for her were it not for one serious flaw; it was made for a man. The cuirass just wouldn't fit over her chest, for obvious reasons.

The armor needed some adjustments. Luckily, as a smithing apprentice, I learned to work with iron and steel so I could take care of that myself. All I needed was a forge.

Lydia was surprised by my offer and almost declined but I ordered her to accept and that was that. Sometimes it was useful to be the one in charge.

Curiously enough, there was a strange piece of armor tossed aside in a corner. There was a certain exotic look to it and it combined hardened leather, steel plates and chainmail. But it was way too big for any of us so we left it where it lay.

When we emerged from the cellar the courtyard was illuminated with warm orange light. Ra'zahirr made a large fire while we were searching the ruined castle. Falaere was asleep, lying near the fire, wrapped in furs, with Do'khar watching over her nearby. Telrav was still out cold.

"Seems you found what you were looking for. And more, this one sees." The Khajiit greeted us. Well, the two of us were heavy with our own gear and the stuff we picked up in the cellar and donned different armor. Lydia did look rather strange as she wore steel plate boots and gauntlets with her old armor, the steel plate cuirass stuffed in a bag slung over her shoulder.

"Telrav's band did steal a lot." I smirked. "I don't think they'd mind us taking it... not like they're in any position to object." I gestured to the corpses piled up near the main gate.

"Of course, Ra'zahirr and his cousin were left very weary and angry by Telrav's treatment." He said slyly. "We will most definitely require a compensation for our trouble."

"I can imagine." I glanced at Falaere. "How is she?"

"Her body is getting rid of the poison... but it'll take a few more hours before she's clean." He paused. "Though this one is more concerned what your friend might do once she wakes up and realizes what happened."

"I think it's Telrav who should be afraid, not us." I remarked, noticing the bandit leader waking up.

"A fair point."

The bandit groaned quietly as he slowly regained consciousness. "Wh- what the..." Good, I couldn't wait to have a few words with that bastard.

Lydia stood up and walked over to Telrav, staring him down with a piercing glare. He must've hit his head pretty hard, given how long it took him to remember how he ended up in his current situation.

"Oh, it's you..." He narrowed his eyes at the housecarl who stood before him. "Seems you made yourself at home around here already." Of course he went for the whole 'obnoxius and spiteful' routine. "It's pretty rude to sift through your host's crap without asking, you know. Didn't your mama te-"

He didn't finish as Lydia backhanded him across the face. "You don't seem all that grateful that we didn't kill you." She glowered at him.

Telrav gave her a mocking smile. "Oh thank you milady for sparing my life! I'll remember your kindness while I'm rebuilding everything you destroyed! Keep being so good to me and I might even-"

A kick to the stomach cut him off. "I can do this for hours, believe me." Lydia said, cracking her knuckles.

While Ra'zahirr was content with watching the scene, I approached the tied up bandit.

"Oh, you brought a friend with you, too!" Then he spied Do'khar glaring at him. "And the big kitty's out of the cage, what a surprise."

The large Khajiit hissed at his comment. _"Khrassozay qojiit!"_ I didn't know what the phrase meant but I'd wager it to be an insult of some kind.

I almost couldn't stomach looking at Telrav. Seeing that smug smirk off his face made me want to kill him right there. However, I thought Falaere should decide his fate since she suffered the most at his hands.

"Sorry I didn't join you earlier." I said nonchalantly and pointed at the pile of bodies. "I was busy taking care of your friends, over there." I noticed his expression darken slightly. It didn't last long, though; soon, his annoying smirk was back.

"I can see that. But you know what? I've had a wonderful time with your Elf friend, too!"

Despite all my willpower, I couldn't help it but stiffen at his words... and the little bastard noticed. Almost like if he was daring us to kill him. Or he was simply confident we wouldn't, no matter what he did or said.

"The moment we met back on the road, I just knew I had to have her-"

I clenched my fists until the knuckles went white. _Keep pushing me and I'll hurt you, badly._

Lydia socked him in the face but that didn't stop him from making more comments.

"It took a while to _get her in the mood,_ you know, but the fun we had together..." Telrav paused and looked up, pretending to be daydreaming. "I'll never have a fuck like that ever a-"

My right hand shot up and hit him straight in the jaw. So hard that blood erupted out of his mouth, along with a few teeth. Telrav grunted in pain as his head snapped to the side.

"Good one." Lydia snorted.

Telrav spat out some blood and grinned, showing some missing teeth. "Oh, did I hit a nerve?"

Of course he had the gall to ask... No matter, I was done listening anyway. "You have no idea." I snapped back and breathed in.

" _Fo!"_

A silvery cloud of ice-cold air left my lungs and slammed into Telrav. He gasped sharply and his eyes nearly popped out of his skull as the entirety of his body became covered in a thin sheet of frost. Within moments he blacked out again.

"Ra'zahirr knows not what kind of power that was but it was certainly impressive." Ra'zahirr remarked casually as Telrav slumped in his binds, unconscious. "He wouldn't mind possessing it."

 _You'd change your mind pretty quickly,_ I thought to myself. When it comes to powers like mine, everyone sees the benefits but they usually don't realize the drawbacks until it's too late.

There was nothing left to do but wait until Falaere woke up. We sat near the fire in silence; there were a few attempts at small talk but what happened here had soured everyone's mood. Unable to stand being idle, Lydia went to have another look around the ruined castle. She came back while later and showed us a suspicious letter addressed to one Vasha. Whoever it was, this person seemed to have his own operation going in Skyrim and Telrav was the one to supply him goods, no doubt taken by force from travellers. No way to track this Vasha down but I still kept the letter. It might prove useful later.

The sun had set in the meantime and it was getting dark quickly. As the skies grew darker, the light from the fire became more intense.

How much time passed? Half an hour? An hour? Or even two hours? It was difficult to keep track. All I knew was relief when the bundle of furs near the fire started moving.

" _Dreamer va zaigoh."_ Do'khar rumbled. I still had trouble getting used to the fact that Ra'zahirr and this huge sabercat lookalike were the same race...

Within moments, Lydia and I were at Falaere's side. I reached out to take off the pelt covering her head. But to my other surprise, she suddenly sat up. The Wood elf held the furs close to her to keep herself covered. I nearly forgot she was still naked under the covers.

" _Where is that swine?!"_

I nearly flinched at the harsh growl that escaped her lips. The look in her eyes was one of pure murder. Even a half-wit would know she meant Telrav.

"Um, he's the one tied to the dummy over there." Lydia replied, pointing at the unconscious bandit. He was very much alive, despite the frostbite. I checked. "By the way, we found your stuff. It's in the bag right here."

"Thanks." She narrowed her eyes as she spied Ra'zahirr sitting nearby. "Who's that?"

"A fellow prisoner. He joined us after we escaped the prison. By the way, he has a cousin that kind of looks like a sabercat."

"Yes, the Pahmar-raht over there. I gathered that." I shouldn't be surprised that Falaere knew. "What happened, anyway?"

I related to her how we managed to escape the cells and fought our way through the entire bandit clan, killing most of them. I even told her how I found her in the tower, though I kept the details to myself.

Falaere grimaced at that. She remembered what went on in the tower, that much was obvious. "My memories are foggy since the bastard forced that concoction down my throat. But whatever it was made me... _willing._ I didn't even try to fight him. That was the worst. I don't know how long it would go on if you didn't intervene."

Lydia and I shared a look. "You take this... unexpectedly well," The housecarl said carefully.

There was a moment of heavy silence. I thought it might've been the wrong thing to say. For Nine's sake, no woman ever copes easily with being violated.

"I wouldn't say that... But I found retribution makes things like this more bearable." Then again, Falaere obviously was no ordinary woman. "I'm going to get dressed and then I'll deal with Telrav so we can all get out of here."

"This one would like to point out it would be better to stay the night here." Ra'zahirr spoke up. "There is no more danger."

"I don't want to stay here any longer than necessary." Falaere replied icily as she stood up, not caring that she was exposed. "I'm sure you understand." I've seen her naked, not like I wanted to, but I still turned away out of politeness. "Always the gentleman, I see. Even after seeing me wearing nothing but my skin." I chose not to reply to her mocking remark.

Similar thing happened between me and Lydia. I had a feeling it would make travelling together awkward as heck...

"By the way," Lydia butted in. "We found a rather substantial hoard of loot in a cellar. You get a cut too, if you're interested."

"Really? Well, I'd never say no to money... and it'll definitely make the revenge sweeter." I could tell the Wood elf was pleased. A while later she was fully dressed in her leather armor. "Now, go and split the loot, please. All of you." She grabbed a dagger from the bag. "I have to settle a score with our _gracious host._ "

The menacing tone in her voice said it all. I headed to the cellar with Lydia and the Khajiit cousins. Whatever Fal planned to do to Telrav, I didn't _need_ to see it.

* * *

My suspicion turned out correct.

At first there was nothing; just muffled voices with no distinguishable words. I paid no mind to it for we were busy splitting the loot, each of us getting a cut of coin, gems and jewellery. It wasn't until later that the screaming started.

"This does not bode well for Telrav." Ra'zahirr muttered as a series of bloodcurdling wails came from above.

"Who cares about that bastard?" Lydia scoffed. "He's getting what he deserves, as far as I'm concerned."

I was inclined to agree with my housecarl but Telrav's agonized screams made me almost feel sorry for him. _Stressing almost._

The screaming continued for a while until it abruptly stopped, much to my relief. By that time, we were almost finished.

Moments later, Falaere showed up in the cellar's entrance. Her hands were dripping with blood. I didn't know what she did to Telrav... and I wasn't about to ask. Lydia handed the Elf a bag with her share of loot which she accepted without a word.

"It's done." She said breathlessly. "We can leave this Gods-forsaken place."

I glanced at the rest of the company. "Alright, then. Let's go."

"Not yet," The Wood elf said suddenly and ran down the stairs to retrieve a moonstone sword. Something Lydia and I somehow overlooked... Shame, it could've been mine but as they say, finders keepers. "Now we can go."

What a relief that the Nilheim episode was finally behind us. Taken in as prisoners, now we walked out as free people. The Khajiit cousins looked completely different from when we first met; Ra'zahirr wearing a colorful, elaborately embroidered garb and his cousin Do'khar clad in the same exotic armor we found earlier. It was fit just for him, it seemed.

I tried my hardest not to look as we walked past Telrav, or whatever was left of him. The bandit boss lay on the ground, his body covered almost head to toe in his own blood. If he weren't dead, he soon would be.

One reason not to get on Falaere's bad side...

"So, where to?" Ra'zahirr asked.

"We should camp somewhere further down the road." Lydia suggested. "Away from this place. Then we're headed to Whiterun."

The Khajiit nodded slowly. "Ah, Whiterun. Ri'saad and his caravan frequent this city. We might join him, if he'll have us."

"So it's decided." I said. "Back to Whiterun, it is."

Walking through the ruined gate, we left castle Nilheim without a single backward glance.

 _Let's hope this is the last time we see this place._

* * *

Author's note: _Okay, I know this should've come out way earlier but I hit a massive writer's block and it messed me up to the point that I didn't even know what to write. Then when I got back on track it ended up too long and I had to delete some stuff I thought redundant. Still, about 7500 words is way more than what I usually write; it's definitely the longest I wrote for this fic. I'm writing my diploma thesis on the side so it gets pretty hard to come up with some good ideas._

 _Things are getting rather dark in the story. Well, Skyrim's a cold unforgiving land and in a place like that, bad things are bound to happen. It's a part of life. Besides, our heroes got captured by bandits that don't hesitate to kill. And when there are two women in the company, it's pretty obvious what these lowlifes would be after. Also, I realize that Nilheim wasn't really big in game but since I'm expanding the "real" Skyrim a bit, I thought even bandit lairs should get a boost in size.  
_

 _I realize that with the content of this chapter I'm veering into a dangerous territory and not everyone might agree with it. There's no really graphic content in here to warrant an M rating, I think, but my opinion may be wrong. If so, I'd like someone to notify me to change the rating instead of instantly reporting me without any warning. I heard it happened on FFN before and I'd really like to avoid this unpleasant business._

 _ _ _As always, thanks for reading, review, favorite or follow; compliments and/or critique always welcome :-)___

* * *

 _ _ _Edited on 14th October 2017___

 _ _ _I don't do this often but I thought I should do some adjustments for this story.___

 _ _ _First off, while I leave this fic's rating at T, all chapters that contain any kind of graphic content (violence, adult themes, sexuality, etc.) will be marked with (M) in the list of chapters. This chapter is an exception because of mentioned non-con sex (though no explicit content).___

 _ _ _I also forgot to include the translations from Ta'agra so here it goes.___

Khrassozay qojiit! _ _ _ _\- insult, meaning "clawless coward"____

 _ _ _ _ _Dreamer va zaigoh. - "The Bosmer is waking."  
_____

 _ _ _ _ _Also thanks to Naruto loves FemKyuubi, Dragon Man 180 and ACatInASnowball for their reviews. Plus the latter had some questions and I'll attempt to answer them without revealing_____ too much _ _ _ _ _stuff._____

 _ _ _ _ _No.1: While I don't rule out Dovahkiin having a relationship with either one of the ladies, there will be no triangle, that's certain. No.2: Lydia is already in the Housecarl guild (LOL) but the rest of the company will join some guilds. Which ones? Well, you'll just have to wait and see. No.3: We'll get to Dawnguard and Dragonborn questlines too, but that won't happen until later on. As for Dawnguard story, I've got an alternate take on it in mind. And yes, Saliyah will be in that too. No.4: Well, that's a tough one. At this point, I can only say that Dovahkiin and co. won't join the fight 'cause Dragonborn stuff. While Elaith will definitely get involved, she'll mostly be in the background, I think. I've half the mind to have the Imperials and Stormcloaks team up against the Thalmor but that wouldn't be very original, would it? No.5: Yes, Elaith will be involved in the College main questline but the main protagonist is yet to arrive. That's all I can say._____

 _ _ _ _ _I hope I answered all your questions,_____ ACatInASnowball _, and once again, thanks for the review.  
_


	21. XXI) Hunting the knowledge

Chapter 21 - Hunting the knowledge

 _Lydia_

 _Evening of 7th Hearth Fire, near the borders between Falkreath and the Rift_

We were camping out in the woods near the ruins of Helgen. Nothing really happened since we left Nilheim along with the Khajiit cousins. As in, no attacking wolf packs, no ambushes by bandits, nothing of the sort. Still, things still were far from okay. The mood was solemn and none of us talked much. It seemed that what happened in Nilheim left its mark on all of us.

I'm no stranger to being beaten, or in pain. But that was the first time I truly felt helpless, unable to do anything. We all fell to Telrav's dirty trick and were taken captive. It was pure luck we managed to get out... though it wasn't enough to keep Falaere from being drugged and violated by that criminal refuse. And I nearly ended up like her.

True, we got our revenge and slaughtered Telrav's entire clan though now it seemed like a small comfort.

The Wood elf barely said a word since we left the ruined castle. Even normally she wasn't much of a talker but now... It seemed like if she wasn't really with us. The ordeal she was put through must've affected her more than I thought. I mean, the first thing she did after the drugs wore out was to torture and kill Telrav. To this moment I didn't know what exactly she did to him... and I didn't even care to. Something like that would make one think that she coped well with all that, or as well as it was even possible after being raped for Gods-know-how-long.

But what I've seen so far seemed to prove otherwise.

As soon as we set up our camp, Falaere announced she'd keep watch for the next few hours, slipping into the woods before any of us could say anything. I thought at first that maybe she needed some time alone. Still, the way she acted rubbed me the wrong way. The two of us never really saw eye to eye; blame my paranoia since I was a housecarl, I had a Thane to protect and the Wood Elf was an unkown. I knew next to nothing about her which made her a possible risk.

But none of that mattered now.

Some time later I decided to go and find her. She wasn't in the right state of mind, who knew what she might do...

I excused myself and headed into the woods, leaving the Dragonborn and the Khajiit cousins at the camp.

It was getting dark and wandering around alone could be dangerous. But the forest was quiet, it was safe to say we were alone for now. Finding Falaere proved to be a tougher task than I imagined, though. I couldn't see her anywhere; it was like if she vanished into thin air. Calling out her name certainly wasn't a good idea since I'd attract unwanted attention but that almost failed to stop me from trying if it weren't for me tripping over a pair of boots lying on the moss covered ground.

"You know, you make yourself look like a complete fool, stumbling around here like that."

The familiar voice, bearing the barest hint of amusement, came from above, prompting me to look up. Sure enough, there she was, sitting on a thick low branch of an old massive linden tree and wielding a bow. The tree's large broad leaves served to mask her presence well.

Had she decided to remain quiet, I would've never noticed her.

"What are you doing here?" Falaere asked in a flat tone. "It's not your turn to watch; you're a few hours too early."

"I know." I replied.

She leapt down from the branch that hung more than ten feet above the ground and landed safely on her bare feet. "Then why aren't you at the camp? Don't you have a Thane to protect?" There was no malice in her voice as far as I could tell.

"I won't be gone long. I just wanted to talk." The Dragonborn would be alright. He had his Thu'um and the company of the Khajiit cousins, nothing could possibly endanger him.

"Oh? What about?" The Wood elf intoned, crimson eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"Well, uh... Mostly about you, I guess." I could face a raging troll or fight off a couple of bandits without any trouble. I didn't know what it was but something about that woman made me act like a nervous blabbering wreck. _Damn it, me..._ "I, um, wanted to know how you're doing."

"Well enough, I suppose." She was visibly perplexed. "Why are you asking?"

Gods, why was this so difficult...?

"Just wanted to make sure, I mean... You've been quiet this whole day, more so than usual-"

"So was the rest of you, or am I wrong?" She interrupted flippantly. To be fair, she wasn't...

"I know! I guess we're all still coping with what happened back in castle Nilheim." I explained. "Just wanted to check on you, to make sure that-"

I trailed off when the Elf began chuckling quietly. "I think I can see what this is all about, housecarl." She drawled. "You're afraid the experiences at Nilheim left me emotionally unstable; that one day I just might snap and kill myself at the first opportunity or charge off recklessly into an uneven battle hoping to get killed." I tried not to show any signs of surprise on my part. Though these weren't necessarily the words I'd use myself, the way Falaere summed it up wasn't exactly wrong. Now I was more worried that I might've offended her. Who knew with this woman... "Sorry to disappoint you but I don't plan on doing that anytime soon."

I frowned at her remark. "Why should I be disappointed?"

"I recall you making it pretty clear that you don't trust me."

 _Oh..._ The conversation I had with the Dragonborn back in Sild's hideout. She must've heard us, then.

"And can you blame me?" I retorted. "I don't deal well with unknown; neither I nor my Thane actually no anything about you and it doesn't exactly raise my confidence when you do nothing to change it!"

Falaere gave me a look. "And have you considered there's a good reason why I don't talk about myself?" She countered.

"...Why?" That was the only thing I could say.

"That, sadly, is none of your business." The Elf said with finality. "We may travel together but are still little more than acquaintances. Thus I don't feel obligated to disclose my personal matters to you."

 _Fine, be that way._ I told myself, deciding against pursuing this topic. But we did get off track, though. "Still, you're way too calm for someone who was put through... such ordeal." I wasn't going to say _it_ specifically; even thinking about it revolted me. "I'm not sure if I like it..."

"I don't know why you're so concerned but don't be." Falaere sighed, leaning against the linden's thick trunk. "I'm fine, or at least, I will be. After all, it gets easier to cope with _such ordeal_ when you've suffered through worse and survived."

I knew the Wood elf made it pretty clear she didn't like anyone prying into her personal affairs so I wasn't about to ask. But still, what could be worse than literally being drugged into compliance and then violated ceaselessly for hours? Who was this woman? What was she doing through all the years? So many questions swimming around in my mind, and I might never get the answers.

"Well, if you're sure, I'll just... let you get back to whatever you were doing." I said awkwardly and took a few steps back. "Just... If there are any trouble, let us know, alright?"

She had her back turned on me so I didn't see her face... but I just knew she was rolling her eyes. "I've been on the road for over twenty years and I'm still alive. I think I can make do without anyone babysitting me." The Elf then climbed swiftly back into the tree with a grace reminiscent of that of felines. "Go get some sleep while you still can; I'll let you know when is your turn to watch."

With nothing else to do, I returned back to our camp where Thane Farlas was having a conversation with Ra'zahirr.

"... so what you're saying is that even though there are so many Khajiit breeds, they all look the same when they're born?"

"Exactly! No one knows exactly why it is that way but the influence of the moons only shows later in life, as a cub grows."

 _I see I walked upon a cultural exchange..._ I couldn't stop the wry smirk forming on my lips.

"Still, it seems impossible that one cub in a litter grows up to look the same as a Wood elf while the other turns into this huge tiger-like... what did you call it? A _S-_ _Senche?_ "

"Senche-raht are even bigger, mind you; our kind use them as steeds sometimes." Ra'zahirr grinned. "Nevertheless, while our forms may vary, our intelligence does not. The Alfiq could be easily mistaken for common housecats, which would make them perfect spies."

"Gods, any more of this and I just might become paranoid." My Thane chuckled. "Who'd ever look for spies among house pets?"

"Fortunately for you, Alfiq do not venture outside Elsweyr, very much like many other Khajiit breeds."

I was inclined to agree. Elsweyr had allied with the Dominion decades ago. It would be bad if the Thalmor got the brilliant idea to plant these 'Alfiq' into the remaining sovereign territories. That is, if they haven't already...

It wasn't until I sat down at the campfire when Thane Farlas noticed me. "Where were you, Lydia?" He asked, not unkindly. "You vanished without as much as saying a word."

"I was around, checking the area was safe."

Much to my relief, he bought my lie. Well, the best lies are those which have a grain of truth to them, goes the old wisdom.

"I suppose another pair of eyes watching our backs is always useful."

"Anyway, I'll be the next to keep watch." I stated. "Speaking of which, where are we heading now?"

"To Whiterun. It's not like we have anywhere else to be. We still have to wait until De-" Farlas cut himself off mid-word. " _Daphne_ tells us how to go about our excursion."

Of course, Delphine was a Blade, wanted by the Thalmor. It could be dangerous both to her and us to throw her name around carelessly. And we simply couldn't announce we were planning to break into the Thalmor embassy.

Let's hope the Khajiit didn't notice his slip of the tongue.

"So we're spending the next few weeks resting our haunches in the city, just waiting for the letter?" I questioned.

"I bet there are jobs the Jarl or anyone else in the city might need done. Enough to keep us busy. And..." The Thane heaved a sigh. "I guess I personally need some help as well."

"What do you mean?" I frowned.

"When I left Cyrodiil I thought my skill with the blade would be enough to survive in this land. It wasn't, as the fiasco in Nilheim proved." He grunted bitterly. "I need to get better at fighting, to get stronger. Even more so with the dragons flying about."

I could understand his reasoning. "So what's your plan, then?"

"I want to talk to the Companions, to see if they'd have me." He explained. "Since they're kind of like the Fighters Guild down in Cyrodiil, I figured there's a lot they could teach me."

"This one heard about the Companions." Ra'zahirr interjected. "They're reputed to be an honorable guild, although some consider them to be simply a mob of glorified mercenaries."

"Then they're wrong." I said perhaps a little more sharply then I intended. Calling the Companions 'mercenaries' was a travesty since they were a whole another class. I practically grew up on the stories about Companions and all their heroic and honorable deeds. Uncle Balgruuf was good friends with the members of the Circle, the senior Companions, and my father took fighting lessons from Kodlak Whitemane himself. I might've even joined them, had my father not disagreed so vehemently... In spite of that, I like to think I've done pretty well for myself.

"Everyone is entitled to their own opinions, even if they might be wrong." My Thane shrugged. "Anyway, the Companions could help me become a better fighter."

"The Companions don't accept just everyone in their ranks, with all due respect to your abilities." I pointed out. Take Uthgerd, for example. She was a strong and capable warrior so no one really doubted Kodlak wouldn't accept her. At least, not until she accidentally killed the guy who was to test her mettle. It was the lack of self-control that led to her being rejected in the end. Uthgerd was still pretty bitter about it, too.

"One of them extended an invitation to me. That has to account for something, right?"

That piqued my interest. "Which one?"

"Well, she never told me her name. But she has red hair, grey eyes and a warpaint on her face that looks like a claw mark."

Oh, I knew that one. "That's Aela. They call her The huntress; think you can imagine why." I explained. "She's a high-ranked member, so her word could have some weight among the Companions. Still, Kodlak makes the final decision so it's him you should worry about."

"Right, I'll keep that in mind." The Dragonborn nodded. "By the way, I should also look into adjusting that steel plate armor for you. And before you say something: you don't get to refuse, Lydia. Consider than an order."

I was tempted to... I had enough money to pay Adrianne to reforge the cuirass for me. I didn't want anyone's help with that; it was a matter of dignity.

On the other hand, I really wanted that steel plate armor... Maybe it would be better to just swallow my pride, this once.

* * *

 _Elaith_

 _Morning of 8th Hearth Fire, Windhelm_

"State your business, _elf._ " The guardsman before me grunted, eyeing me with what could only be described as suspicion.

"I'm here to see the court wizard." I replied, trying not to roll my eyes at the man's attitude.

"Wuunferth?" The other guards scoffed. "What could he possible have to talk about with a _goldskinned rat?_ I bet she's a Thalmor spy."

"I'm with the College of Winterhold, mister." I grounded out through clenched teeth, fighting the urge to hit someone. _The nerve of that filthy, stinking, rotgut-guzzling pig..._ "The same institution Wuunferth used to work at, as you surely know."

"Bah, mages! That's exactly what we need here! Who can guarantee Windhelm won't crumble into dust once she enters?" The same man who accused me of being a spy jeered.

"That's enough, Ennar." The other guard snapped, effectively silencing him. Thankfully, if I heard one more word from that idiot, I just might've snapped... "Fine, you may enter. But remember, we'll have our eyes on you, so you better not do anything stupid while you're here, _outsider._ " With one last scornful look, he stepped aside and let me through the gate.

Moments later, I stood in the large square surrounded by houses. The Candlehearth hall inn, situated right opposite of the front gate, seemed to dwarf every other building nearby.

I sighed as I beheld the place; everything built from ice cold stone and covered in a thick layer of blindingly white snow.

This was Windhelm, the city of Ysgramor.

I've been here before on business and I never much liked this city; it seemed so dreary, cold and unwelcoming, despite many Nords saying the opposite. That might've been true at some point but ever since Ulfric started his rebellion, things have been going from bad to worse around here. Now, Windhelm seemed to be drowning in paranoia and mistrust of strangers. Every newcomer would be suspect of being an Imperial spy and treated as such.

And it wasn't just the Empire that was the target of Stormcloaks' hatred. Now it was also the Dunmer, or Greyskins, as some Nords referred derisively to them, or any Mer in general, Khajiit, Argonians, or basically anyone who wasn't a Nord. So much for the ever-praised Nordic hospitality...

Best if I finished my business in here quickly and moved on.

Ignoring the dirty looks from the guardsmen and the city folk, I strode right to the Palace of the Kings. As a complete stranger I already drew some attention from the locals, especially when I wore mage robes. But as long as I didn't do anything to provoke them, they would leave me alone. Or I hoped so, at least.

Getting kicked out of Windhelm before even concluding my business with Wuunferth would be most inconvenient. Beside being one of the authorities on Destruction school of magic, he was also an avid historian, specializing in old Nordic lore. If anyone could tell me precisely what the World-Eater was, it would be him. Maybe I could catch him in an agreeable mood, if I were lucky.

Alas, luck was something I seemed to lack that day.

A Dunmer woman in a filthy dress ran past me, almost knocking me back as she evaded a stone flying in her direction. Surprised by the turn of events I failed to see another stone which almost hit me, missing my head by inches.

"That's right! You can keep running all the way back to Morrowind, greyskin whore!"

I saw a couple of Nords approaching from the right, both of them looking fairly drunk. It was all to clear what was going on; the racism problem in Windhelm was obviously even worse than I thought.

The drunks stopped in their tracks when I faced them, regarding them with a disdainful sneer.

 _I really hate Windhelm..._

"The fuck are ya gawkin' at, Niranye?!" The one in filthy ragged tunic slurred. "Why ain't ya at yer stand, sellin' that worthless crap you call 'wares'?"

The man was obviously very drunk; no wonder he mistook me for someone else. "I beg your pardon?"

"You fuckin' deaf?" The drunk growled. "I said-"

"That ain't Niranye, Ang." The other Nord who was throwing stones earlier, noticeably less drunk and better dressed, spoke up. "What do you want here, outsider?" He addressed me with a scornful tone.

It was too much to hope that the two louts would take the hint and stop bothering me, but I tried anyway. "I'm here on business and I'm under no obligation to explain myself to you." I answered curtly.

The words only seemed to anger the nameless drunk. "You think you can talk down to me like that?!" He shouted, his glare growing even more hostile. "You High elves think you're so mighty an' superior, don't ya? That stuck-up cunt Niranye, too; always looking down on us Nords, trying ta scam us outta our last coin too, tellin' me to get lost when I get near 'er... But ya won't be so smug with us once we boot your kind out of Skyrim, I tell ya! And them Greyskins and pox-ridden Lizards, too!"

My hand strayed to the hilt of my sword as the drunk got uncomfortably close, waving his fists around in front of my face. His breath stank of mead and something else I couldn't quite describe.

I tensed up, ready to defend myself in case the drunk tried something. Better be ready in case it did come to blows.

"What are you doing, Rolff?!" A familiar voice rang out, cutting off the Nord's drunken rant.

It seemed I was lucky. The drunk Nords before me instantly shifted their attention to the newcomer. It was another Nord, older than the idiots trying to pick a fight with me; tall, bald and sporting a full grey beard, clad in a worn set of scaled armor.

The man obviously changed quite a bit in appearance since the Great war but I recognized him all the same.

The old warrior approached us, regarding Rolff and his friend Ang with a wrathful stare. "Don't you two have better things to do than to harass travellers?" The drunks flinched at his harsh voice. "It's bad enough you still bother the Dark elves in the city but now you have to go and try to pick a fight with strangers?"

"You still goin' about sticking up for the Greyskins, Brunwulf?" Rolff protested. "They're nothin' but trouble, as are all the outsiders pokin' around Windhelm!"

"Funny you should say that," The man named Brunwulf sneered. "Cause it seems to me that you and Angrenor are the trouble here."

Rolff scowled, trying to appear menacing. He failed miserably, in my honest opinion... "So you'd even betray your people for those knife-eared parasites? Some Nord you are, damn traitor! You're a disgrace to the true sons an' daughters of Skyrim! One day we'll show you-"

"Show me _what,_ exactly?" Brunwulf cut him off, sounding almost bored. "You and this piss-poor excuse for a soldier," He gestured to Angrenor. "Are all talk, and everyone knows it! One flex of muscle is enough to send both of you running so stop embarrassing yourselves with your empty threats."

Rolff went bright red in the face; whether from shame or anger, I was not sure. But it was most likely the latter. "Now get out of my sight or I will _tell on you to your brother,_ Rolff."

At the mention of his brother, Rolff deflated rather quickly. Though he wouldn't leave without one parting shot, at least. "This isn't over, Brunwulf. Count on it!" He growled before scurrying away, his friend Angrenor stumbling after him.

Brunwulf shook his head at the retreating troublemakers. "Wish I didn't have to deal with those idiots every day..." Then he turned back to me. "Though _you_ turning up in here, that's a surprise. Hope those louts didn't cause you any trouble."

"It's alright, I could've handled them all by myself. Think you should worry more about yourself, Brunwulf Free-Winter." I couldn't help it but smile.

Brunwulf and I knew one another for years. The two of us met during the Great war, shortly after the 6th Legion was established following the fall of the Imperial City. We both fought in the front ranks during the battle of the Red ring, and we both almost died during the bloody pandemonium. He was one of the most fearsome warriors I've ever met, almost unstoppable on the battlefield. After the war ended, we went our separate ways. While I joined the College of Winterhold, Brunwulf worked as a sellsword for a couple of years before he settled down in Windhelm.

"Hah! I may not look the part but I still fight just as well as in the war!" The bearded Nord laughed. "I bet I still could trample you in a spar; you always were an absolute rubbish at sword-and-shield fighting!"

"Don't get too cocky now, old-timer." I shot back with a smirk. "I still could run circles around you."

Brunwulf scoffed. "Old-timer? That's rich, coming from you; you might look good for your age but underneath you're but a decrepit wrinkled harpy!"

We glared at each other for a few moments before breaking down laughing. Throwing insults around was our idea of a joke, it went back to our time with the Legion. And it still hadn't gotten old.

"Anyway, what brings you to Windhelm, Elaith?" Brunwulf then asked. "You here on business or _running away_ from it?"

"The job at the College isn't so bad that I'd want to run away from it, Brunwulf." I scoffed at his joke. "No, I came here because I need to discuss something with Wuunferth."

The Nord raised his eyebrows. "The court wizard? The old man's absorbed in his research nigh all the time these days; never even leaves his chamber. I don't know if he'll be interested in a conversation. I hear he gets really annoyed when he's disturbed." He leaned closer and lowered his voice. "And by that, I mean 'willing-to-fry-you-from-inside-out' kind of annoyed."

 _Yep, sounds like Wuunferth..._

"He'll listen to me." I replied confidently. "It's about dragons; that should be enough to pique his interest."

Brunwulf scowled at the mention of dragons. "Aye, I hear all about dragons these days. Word travels fast. How long do you think it'll take?"

Now it was my turn to be surprised. "Not long, maybe an hour at most. Why are you asking?"

"Well, I just thought we might meet up sometime later and go in a tavern for a drink and catch up... We barely see one another these days." Never thought I'd see someone like Brunwulf look sheepish...

The last time we saw each other was about two years ago; we both had our hands full and with my College work and Stormcloaks growing more intolerant and hateful of 'outsiders', there wasn't really a chance to meet and catch up. Until now...

"You know what, I'm not in a hurry anyway so I can stay in here over night."

"I knew you'd see things my way." Brunwulf grinned in response. "Let's meet at the Candleheart Hall after you've finished with Wuunferth."

I allowed myself a light smile. "It's a deal."

* * *

Brunwulf was right about one thing. Wuunferth absolutely hated being disturbed while he was in the middle of what he deemed an important research. His laboratory in the upper store of the Palace of the kings was a complete mess. Books, papers, alchemical equipment and all sorts of junk strewn all over the room and the mage himself hunched over a huge tome on his desk. The moment I entered the room he whirled around and started shouting, demanding the 'intruder' to remove themselves from his laboratory at once.

He deflated pretty quickly when he saw who he was yelling at.

Wuunferth used to work at the College for a very long time. He left a few years ago to pursue his own research... or possibly so he wouldn't have to put up with students who didn't know what they were doing half the time. Either way, his friendship with Jarl Ulfric has soon won him a place at Windhelm's court.

When I finally told him the purpose of my visit, all his anger went away in a blink, his research suddenly forgotten.

"Yes, the 'dragon crisis', as some call it, seems to be the only thing people talk about these days." The old wizard muttered as he searched through his personal library. "Ever since Helgen, there were dragon sightings all over Skyrim. I wouldn't be surprised if there were some in Cyrodiil or High Rock."

I nodded in reply. "Anything related to dragons happening here lately?"

"There was an attack at Kynesgrove, only three days ago." Wuunferth replied in a dark tone. "I don't know what exactly happened there since I didn't get a chance to speak to witnesses. But there were supposedly _two_ dragons." Two _dragons?!_ A chill ran down my back. _This just keeps getting worse._ "What's more intriguing is that one of them was never seen coming. It simply appeared, as in out of thin air. The dragon that first arrived flew away later and the other went on a rampage. Nobody knows how, but four strangers turned up and managed to put the beast down."

 _At least something good came out of that,_ I thought. On the other hand, anyone that can kill a dragons is worth investigating. "Is there anything you know about those strangers?" I asked the court wizard.

The old Nord gave me a look. "What can I tell you? I didn't get to meet them, or anyone who saw them. But from what I've heard, there were one Nord man and three women, another Nord, Breton and a Wood elf." He then leaned closer and lowered his voice. "And what's the strangest, one of them might be a Dragonborn. I assume you know what I'm talking about?"

I barely stopped myself from rolling my eyes. "Yes, I know, Wuunferth. But what makes you think the Dragonborn was present during the attack?"

"A couple of soldiers was sent to inspect the dragon's corpse... They only found a pile of bones and some scales here and there. Everything else was gone, like if decayed."

So, it was true. Some of the books in the Arcanaeum contained testimonies of those who witnessed a Dragonborn devouring a dragon soul. These were thousands of years old, mind you, and there was no way of verifying those. But all these witness accounts mentioned a dragon carcass decaying away at an incredibly fast rate as the Dragonborn absorbed its soul. And this seemed to have happened in Kynesgrove.

If the prophecy was true, then the Dragonborn, whoever it might be, was the only one who could stop an apocalypse. Finding out his identity and tracking him down was an imperative. It was easier said than done, though.

There was one more matter I needed to discuss. "Let's cut to the chase, Wuunferth. I read the prophecy of the Dragonborn." I said. "I want to know who, or what exactly is the World-Eater."

The moment I said the words, the court wizard's expression fell. "I don't know why you're so intent on finding out but there's a reason why people avoid speaking of _him._ " He whispered harshly. "He's the harbinger of the end times, the bringer of the apocalypse; one with a hunger not even the entirety of Nirn can sate!"

Damn, that actually sounded pretty terrifying...

"I don't dare speak openly about him, not in times like these... But I have tomes about him that have the answers you seek."

I narrowed my eyes. "Show me, then."

* * *

Needless to say I did learn everything I needed to know. Maybe even more than I cared to, in fact.

It seemed both Alexandre Simon and Mikhael Karkuxor were wrong, after all. The World-Eater was indeed nothing else but the famed Alduin, whom Nordic lore knew as the first-born son of Akatosh, the leader of the Divines himself. He was "the overlord to all dragons, his scales darker than the night sky, eyes filled with fire burning brighter than the flames of the Red mountain, and his power umatched by mortals, or his dragon servants..." The books mentioned that defeating came at a great cost for mortals, though not a word on how it happened. And since Alduin appeared in Helgen, it was quite possible that the old Nords didn't really finish him off... or he couldn't even be killed by _conventional_ means.

This was how the Nordic lore described Alduin... and it was scarily reminiscent of the dragon that destroyed Helgen. It failed to explain where the other dragons came from, or where they were before this whole mess started. The only thing certain was that only the Dragonborn could stop him. That was what the prophecy said, and of course it didn't mention how exactly it could be achieved...

I had a lot to think about for the rest of my journey's duration. With an expression of gratitude I left Wuunferth's lab and the palace, careful to avoid the gaze of the Jarl. There was no way he didn't remember my face since we shared the same cart, headed for an execution that never took place. And if he saw me in his palace, in the heart of the Stormcloak rebellion... who knows what would happen.

Brunwulf waited at the entrance to the Candlehearth Hall. Contrary to my assumptions, we never went inside; instead, we ended up in a cramped tavern in the Grey quarter, a part of the city where the Dunmer population was restricted.

oOo

" _So, here we are." Brunwulf exclaimed as we entered the run-down house. I was welcomed by a sight of what looked like a tavern. Only it was a lot less..._ attractive _compared to other taverns. Cramped space with little to no furnishings, dimly lit by a few lanterns and filled with strange smells. "Welcome to the New Gnisis cornerclub!"_

 _Our entrance drew quite a lot curious gazes from the bartender and the patrons, all of whom happened to be Dunmer. Was this why Brunwulf took me here, because he thought I'd feel better among fellow Mer? And why the patrons weren't hostile to the presence of a Nord?_

" _Splendid! A Nord in my humble tavern! Never thought I'd see the day." The man behind the bar remarked, his voice dripping with sarcasm._

" _Cut it out, Ambarys," Another Dunmer snapped at him. "Brunwulf is the only one in this gods-forsaken city that gives a damn about us!"_

 _Ambarys the bartender sighed irritably. "Yes, you said it a hundred times already, Malthyr. Having one Nord on our side doesn't get us out of this squalor, remember that."_

 _Malthyr then approached us. "Don't mind Ambarys, he's like that all the time." He apologized on the barkeep's behalf. "Though a lot of us down here share his sentiment... that Ulfric and his lot despise our kind and treat us like dirt."_

" _Aye, been seeing it about every day in here." Brunwulf grumbled._

" _I've met this Rolff character and his homeless drinking buddy shortly after I arrived here." I interjected. "Pretty nasty people, those two; seemed to hate anyone who isn't a Nord."_

" _That's Windhelm for you, sera. Be glad you can live somewhere else." Malthyr paused, regarding me with sudden interest. "I don't think I've seen you around here before. As far as I know, Niranye and Nurelion are the only Altmer in this city."_

 _Brunwulf took it upon himself to introduce me, not even giving me a chance to speak. "Oh, this is Elaith; she's my friend from the Great war. We both used to serve in the Legion, killed scores of Dominion soldiers along the way. But we both quit after the war ended."_

 _Ambarys seemed to perk up at the mention of the Legion._

" _That's the gist of it, yes." I added. "I then joined the College in Winterhold and been working there ever since."_

" _Is that why you took her here?" Ambarys called out from the bar. "Because Elda might get jealous?"_

 _Oh right, the innkeeper from the Candlehearth Hall. Her and Brunwulf seemed to have a relationship... not that it was my business, of course._

" _Yeah, that and I was sure she wouldn't run away after seeing your ugly mug, Ambarys." Brunwulf replied mockingly, shutting the barkeep up for a while. "Now, let's sit down and get something to drink... I'm parched."_

oOo

New Gnisis cornerclub wasn't nearly as bad as I thought. It wasn't the most... _opulent_ of places but good company seemed to make up for it. We sat there with a couple of Brunwulf's Dunmer friends, chatting and swapping tales over a pint of ale... or two...

oOo

 _I took a swig from my tankard, the liquid burning something fierce as it went down my throat. Malthyr encouraged me to try some sujamma and of course, I just couldn't back down from a challenge. Even if I regretted it afterwards, just a little bit. Suppressing a coughing fit, I asked "So, anything new around Windhelm?"_

" _Ever since the damn war started, things have been getting worse with every day." Brunwulf sighed. "Fighting has disrupted supply lines so prices have gone up, some crazy maniac started butchering people inside the city, tension in Windhelm are rising, and now we have damn dragons on the loose."_

 _Dragons were the talk of the day, I knew all about it. It was something else that captured my interest. "Someone's killing people in here?"_

" _Some Nord women were butchered in the streets of Windhelm, not that it matters to me." Ambarys huffed. "As long as it's not my people being killed, I don't care a whit about this city's problems."_

 _The others didn't comment on Ambarys' remark, apparently used to his attitude. I knew the Nords' mistrust of other races would breed some resentment among non-Nordic populace but the deep, bitter hate the barkeep held towards the Nords was something else._

" _It's not that someone just kills them." Brunwulf explained. "These women... they were ripped apart; parts of their bodies just cut out... I don't know who would do something like this, or why."_

" _How long has this been going on?" I asked._

" _No one really knows. The guards found cut up bodies before but it wasn't until later when they made the connection. Though it became a real problem when that girl from the Cruel-Sea clan wound up butchered by the same madman." Malthyr added. "The city's been on the edge ever since. City guard's been searching the city up and down but they didn't catch the bastard. And he even managed to kill one of Torbjorn Shatter-Shield's daughters."_

 _I found myself wondering how it was possible that a serial killer could be on the loose for so long. Whoever it might be was either too good at covering their tracks... or the city guard wasn't doing its job. Better watch my back when I go to the Candlehearth hall later..._

" _Let's change the topic, please." I took a mouthful of sujamma just to wash down the uneasy feeling in my gut. "What else happened around here? Something more positive, by chance?"_

" _What about our dear vigil Viola Giordano?" A merchant named Aval chuckled. "More precisely, about her unrequited love for our resident Captain?"_

" _Right!" Malthyr barked a laugh. "She's been pining after Lonely-Gale for years and he still hasn't noticed!"_

" _I think he did; that's why he avoids her like a plague!" The whole tavern erupted in laughter at Aval's comment._

 _I felt a smile tugging at my lips. This should be good..._

oOo

The time flew by quickly as we sat in that cramped little inn, talking and drinking and laughing. Speaking of drinking, I might've had a bit too much, though I'd feel it much, much later. Though at that particular evening, I didn't care very much. And as I learned later, my state of inebriation was a source of amusement itself...

oOo

" _Do ya know what_ reeeeeally _pisses me off?" My speech was slurred and I was swaying slightly in my seat but I was still in control of my body. Somewhat..._

" _Go on." Aval was grinning like a Khajiit seeing a bowl of moonsugar._

" _It's just that... The Empire and the Stormcloaks are squabblin' over 'banning' of Talos and nobody does nothin' about Thalmor bastards walking all over this wasteland, arresting and killing whoever the hell they want! If the bloody rebels care about their homeland so much they should be killin' those traitorous Dominion snakes instead of going against the Empire, or anyone who ain't a Nord!"_

" _Hear hear!" Brunwulf raised his flagon, choking back laughter._

" _Idiots say that Empire took their God! But we all know it was the Thalmor who came up with the Concordat, and who gives a shit about them?" I slammed my hand on the table. "It's not like one stupid piece of parchment can kill a god, right? Nobody will know you worship Talos unless you're stupid enough to go shouting it from the rooftops. I tell you what; people get nabbed by Justiciars for Talos worship because they don't keep quiet about it. Always wearing the amulets despite the ban, or hiding shrines in the wilderness... But they're just symbols, nothing more; doesn't faith always come from the heart? But the Nords don't get it and that's why they end up in Thalmor dungeons!"_

 _Engrossed in my drunken rant, I didn't notice Brunwulf grimace slightly._

" _And don' even get me started on those Stormcloaks! They're idiots, every single one of 'em!" I accentuated every word by banging on the table."Yeah, signing the damn Concordat was a mistake, we all know that, but that's no good reason for destroying the only thing that can stop the Dominion from walking all over Tamriel! This war ain't about Talos, or Imperial tyranny or whatever! There ain't a grain of truth to Ulfric's talk about fighting for Skyrim's freedom, I tell you! Bah, 'true sons an' daughters of Skyrim' my arse! They only want to go back to the ways of Ysgramor, the glorified Mer-killer, and Ulfric's gonna be their King! But do you know what I have to say about that?!"_

 _At that point, I was halfway gone, remembering only bits and pieces. They way Brunwulf described it, I rose from the table and slammed the inn's door open. Then, taking a deep breath, I screamed into the city's darkened streets._

" _Ulfric and his dogs can go suck on a diseased cho-"_

 _The inn's patrons pulled me back before I could finish the sentence. Once the door was closed, an overwhelming laugh erupted behind them._

oOo

Needless to say I could barely walk on my own after we left the cornerclub. Brunwulf had to accompany me to make sure I wouldn't get hurt... and he let me stay in his house over night because he wasn't sure if I'd even make it to the Candlehearth hall...

The last time I got this drunk was back in my days with the Legion, when I was celebrating my promotion to the rank of Legate. And that was before the Great war started. When it did happen, I was prone to _ill-thought_ behavior. Well, fellow legionnaires were a bad influence in certain ways; pretty sure the Dominion types would want nothing to do with someone like me... Good thing that no one heard me insulting the 'beloved' Stormcloaks. The thing about the things I said in my drunken stupor was that I genuinely believed it. It was my opinion on this civil war, though I did keep it to myself. And to say it out loud in the heart of the Stormcloak rebellion...

The next day I only stayed long enough to bid farewell to Brunwulf and get out of Windhelm before anyone could stop me.

Suffice to say I'm never getting drunk like that again. _Ever._

* * *

Author's note: _First off, I realize it's been a long time since the last update. I'm sorry I don't update more often but the finals are approaching and until a few days ago I've been working on my thesis. I handed it in just yesterday... In short, I have a lot of work to deal with. But I'll try and update once more this month, it's the least I can do._

 _ _ _ _As always, thanks for reading, review, favorite or follow; compliments and/or critique always welcome :-)____

 _ _ _ _For____ Naruto loves FemKyuubi: _Sorry I didn't write anything on Saliyah and co. in this update. I'll be sure to correct that in the next chapter, though!_


	22. XXII) Take up arms

Chapter 22 – Take up arms

 _Saliyah_

 _Midday of 8th Hearth Fire, the Rift_

The three of us, that is me, Theo and Laelette, had finally made it to the Rift. It was a high time too, because Theo was growing restless and rather surly. I did understand he wanted to get his hands on Vulpin and make him pay for his treachery which doomed the Anthotis clan. So did I, of course... but I also was aware of the fact that, aside from heading to the Rift, I knew next to nothing about Vulpin's plans. He could be hiding anywhere; by the blood, he could already be well on his way to another hold, or even another province... Our only option was to guess. Based on his affiliation with the Vampyrum order of Cyrodiil, I could deduce Vulpin would seek out other vampire clans and either forge alliances with them _or_ eradicate them if they had the potential to challenge the Order in the future. Or... Sybille mentioned that Vulpin was looking for some vampiric artifact, supposedly a source of great power. That was exactly what brought the traitorous snake here, even though he didn't know the exact location. If we managed to learn the location of this 'Bloodspring,' there was a real chance we might run into Vulpin, too.

Finding the Bloodspring would be tricky enough on its own, though. If people got wind of some shady individuals looking for a vampiric artifact... the reprisal would be bloody, indeed. On the other hand, there was a chance that Vulpin's efforts wouldn't remain unnoticed and someone would put him down later. I would prefer to kill the bastard myself, but as long as he was dead, I'd be content.

Luck seemed to be on our side for once... at least for now.

After days of hopelessly lagging behind and complaining loudly about her discomfort, Laelette finally managed to get her act together and picked up her pace, actually able to keep up with us. I didn't know what prompted that change but I welcomed it nonetheless. We couldn't afford to linger in one place too long; me accidentally witnessing the Vigilants murdering a Dunmer pilgrim reminded me of that. Although I loathed admitting it, the incident made me a bit too wary of any suspicious sound or sight nearby. As if I was growing paranoid or something...

We would've continued our journey deeper into the Rift but the glare of the sun was getting unbearable. Not as much for me as for my companions but I still decided this would be a good time to find us some shelter. A crumbling ruin of a run down castle built upon a large cliff offered just what we needed, doubly so when it was away from the road and any prying eyes.

Now imagine our surprise when we entered the castle's courtyard and the first thing we saw was a huge pile of burned bodies. Then there was the faint smell of blood that permeated the air; I noticed several blackened splatters all over the place. Laelette herself began shaking at the gruesome sight, though I couldn't tell whether it was disgust or her instincts were acting up due to the smell of blood. It was pretty clear that a massacre occurred here recently. There was no way of knowing who were the poor bastards that lost their lives here... or what they were doing here in the first place since this castle was a ruin beyond repair.

Though the view of the land from here was to die for, we all had to acknowledge that. If you looked closely you could even see the huge column of smoke rising from the maw of the Red mountain...

Although most of the castle had crumbled away due to ravages of time and nature, its cellar remained intact; a perfect place to hide from the sun. While Laelette was resting, Theo and I were discussing our next move.

If Theo had his way, he would scour every cave, crypt, ruin or crevace in the Rift just to find Vulpin. I quickly pointed out that we didn't even know where to look in the first place... which didn't please him in the slightest.

"So you suggest we just give up? _Now,_ after we finally made our way here?" Theo grounded out, his voice thick with both disbelief and outrage.

The Breton's obstinacy was beginning to tire me out. Yes, I understood that Theo lost practically his entire world with the annihilation of Anthotis clan since he was with them for centuries before I came along. If I called them family then they certainly were so much more for him. Theo had a damn good reason for being so adamant about tracking down Vulpin and killing him, since he destroyed everything he cared about through his betrayal. Still, that was no excuse for ignoring stubbornly the point I was trying to make... and my patience was wearing thin.

Any longer of this and I'd give in to the temptation to smack him around until he cooled down... and he wouldn't be able to stop me. Yes, he might be older than me but I was a pureblood vampire.

"I said no such thing." I replied, struggling to keep my voice down. "I only wanted to point out that while we know that Vulpin is after the Bloodspring, we don't know where it is. Our efforts should focus on finding the Bloodspring; if we find it, there's a good chance we find Vulpin, too."

" _If_ we find it, you say." Theo grunted. "What if he already knows where it is? Then he'll be on his merry way back to Cyrodiil and we'll be left with nothing."

"I don't think he knows." I argued. "Sybille Stentor is one of Tamriel's leading authorities on vampirism and even she doesn't know where the Bloodspring is. Chances are, neither does Vulpin. Or it might turn out the Bloodspring is just a fabrication based on tales and myths."

Theo scowled. "It can't be a fabrication if scholars acknowledge its existence."

Laelette sat awkwardly on the ground in silence, her eyes darting between me and Theo as we argued. I had an impression she was starting to understand what we were planning and simply didn't know how to act, knowing we were on a quest for revenge.

For a moment it looked as if our argument would continue... but then Theo relented, heaving a sigh of capitulation. "Fine, we'll do it your way... But you better be right. For the last two centuries I had to live with the knowledge that the one who destroyed my clan- _our_ clan had gotten away scot-free. Now I finally have a chance to pay him back with interests and, by the blood, I'm not letting him escape this time."

"We'll find him, Theo." I assured him. "And when we do, he'll be in for a whole world of-"

I was cut off mid-sentence by a sudden racket coming from upstairs. My hand instantly moved to the hilt of my saber. Laelette jumped up on her feet, obviously startled by the noise.

"What was that?" Theo snarled, bright blue sparks dancing in his palms.

The answer came in the very next moment.

A dark humanoid shape descended the stairs leading to our hideout. Well, _tumbled down_ would be more apt description of what had just happened. I saw a glimpse of faded brown robes though it was difficult to tell with how fast the shape moved, or rather rolled down the staircase, emiting loud grunts of pain as it did.

It was quite an absurd turn of events and left all of us speechless. Though we were ready to spring into action should the intruder prove to be hostile.

It didn't, though. Once it reached the bottom of the stairs, it remained lying in a shapeless heap. Not for long, though. In a few moments it began moving again, attempting to stand up. It even began resembling a human in shape.

"Sweet breath of Arkay, finally a shade!" It gasped in a male voice, struggling to breathe. "Just another hour out there and I'd be cooked alive!"

As soon as this... _stranger_ opened his mouth, Theo's demeanor took a sudden turn. Just moments ago he was ready to fry whoever stumbled in here from inside out, now he was kneeling beside the stranger and helping him up.

This was not what I expected to come out of this... And neither did Laelette, judging by her hopelessly lost expression.

"Aressius! Where have you been?" Theo exclaimed, equally surprised and angry. "It's been two weeks! I was starting to think that something or someone out there took you out!"

The man straightened, finally giving me a view of his face. He was rather skinny, not young, but not really old, either. He must've been in his fifties or sixties perhaps when he contracted vampirism. Most of his face was obscured by a hood but I still could distinguish a thin angular face and a greying braided beard reaching halfway down to his chest.

So this was the ex-priest who travelled with Theo lately... All in all, not very impressive but looks can often be deceiving.

"I apologize for worrying you but my investigation into Rannveig crypt ran into some... complications."

"What happened?" Theo asked, obviously not liking the answer one bit.

"I'll tell you, but first let me rest for a bit. The sun has taken its toll on me... and the mess outside doesn't help in the slightest." The former priest of Arkay sat down heavily on the stairs. "Now that I think of it, I never saw you in the company of these two fine ladies." He looked at me and Laelette with interest. Were she still a mortal, Laelette would most likely blush at the compliment. Sweet talking stopped working on me a long time ago, though.

"I suppose introductions are in order... but you still owe me an explanation. Don't expect me to forget about that." Theo replied and gestured towards me. "This one right here is Saliyah, a fellow member of Anthotis clan and a dear friend of mine," _And a lover at one time_ , I added mentally. "The other one is Laelette, a youngling from Morthal and Saliyah's pupil, you could say."

"And obviously they're both vampires. There's no way mortals would keep your company, unless they were thralls, of course." Aressius chuckled. "'Tis a pleasure to meet both of you."

"Likewise." I answered politely. Laelette just gave a shy smile in response.

"Now," Theo butted in. "You were saying something about a _complication_ in Rannveig crypt, correct?"

Admittedly, I was curious to hear what the priest had to say.

"Well, it was mainly my own fault." Aressius said, his smile vanishing. "Long story short, travellers were disappearing on the road from Whiterun to Solitude. It was happening near the village of Rorikstead and the village elder asked me to look into it; even offered a substantial reward for solving the case. My investigation led me to Rannveig, an old Nordic ruin. At first I assumed it were some beasts that made a lair of the place or perhaps Draugar on the prowl, which would be fairly simple for me to deal with, considering my skillset. Unfortunately, the real cause of these disappearances was way worse than I expected."

"So you got reckless and nearly paid for it with your life." Theo stated bluntly, regarding Aressius with a disapproving glare.

"That's the gist of it, yes." The priest looked actually ashamed.

"So, what was attacking those people?" I asked.

"There was a necromancer that hid inside the crypt. He called himself Sild, 'the most powerful warlock in all of Tamriel...' The man was a lunatic, completely unhinged, performing cruel experiments on people, or simply torturing and murdering them for his own sick amusement." Aressius spoke, his voice dripping with disgust. "He had set up a laboratory in the dungeon where he kept his 'test subjects,' all the poor souls that had the ill luck of crossing his path. I knew I had to put a stop to that and I thought I'd be more than a match for him."

"And you weren't." I deduced, though it was rather obvious.

The priest shook his head. "Sild might've been insane, but he surely wasn't incompetent. He knew too well that vampires are vulnerable to fire. He took me down before I could really hurt him...but he let me live. After all, it isn't every day you get to use a vampire as a test subject. But first, he decided to starve me so I couldn't fight back against him... or maybe he just enjoyed inflicting pain upon others. It doesn't matter now."

"How did you get out?" Theo asked, his earlier anger forgotten.

"By sheer chance." The priest said quietly. "It was on the fifth day of captivity; I was so weakened by hunger I could barely move. But a miracle happened; it took a form of a small band of adventurers happening upon the crypt. Investigating the place, they made their way into the dungeon, where they noticed me, locked in a cage. One of them, a Wood elf, picked the lock. But then Sild appeared and engaged them in battle. As soon as the fight began I crawled out of the cell; nobody noticed me escaping."

There was only one thing I could say about that. "You were lucky."

"In more ways than one." Aressius concurred. "You might think I could've escaped any time but I wouldn't get far in my state at the time. I needed to feed to regain at least some of my strength... and it would be very rude to sink my fangs into one of my saviors, wouldn't you agree?"

Theo chuckled softly. "I suppose so. What did you do, then?"

"Sild was too distracted trying to kill the intruders.. and too prideful to admit that he wasn't invincible. So when one of those adventurers managed to wound him, he completely lost it." Aressius smiled viciously, baring his fangs. "I knew that was my only chance so I pounced at him from behind and drained him dry. His blood was sour, no doubt a consequence of his twisted nature, but it gave me what I needed."

"Nice." I murmured in approval.

"Unfortunately, the adventurer saw me kill Sild and was quite alarmed. An awkward moment, indeed. I had no wish to fight him though so I used a cloaking spell and made myself disappear. And while he and his company were busy licking their wounds, I cut off Sild's head and headed back to Rorikstead to claim my reward."

"Why?" Laelette piped up. "I thought vampires didn't need money."

Aressius gave the young vampire a strange look.

"Pardon her, Aressius. She's young, still learning the ways of our kind." I said apologetically.

"Even our kind needs money to purchase supplies needed for various purposes, little one." The former priest said, not unkindly. Laelette grimaced at being called little... though she was a Breton so I thought it quite appropriate. "Shopping without anyone discovering your true nature is another matter entirely. I did learn ways to blend in with the crowd when needed, in no small part thanks to Theodric, I should say."

Theo remained silent for a while. It made me wonder what was going through his mind at the moment. Was he just glad that Aressius survived his encounter with the mad warlock or he was preparing for another round of tongue-lashing?

Fortunately for the priest, he thought the former. "I could be standing here all day and telling you how reckless and foolish you were... but I suppose there's no point in doing that." Theo smiled thinly. "I'm just glad you made it out alive, old man."

"Old?" Aressius put a hand on his chest with a fake scandalized expression. "I'm younger than you!"

"True, but I was twenty seven when I became a vampire." Theo chuckled. "You were over fifty."

The priest looked like if he was about to retort but thought better of it. Seeing the two of them bicker like that made me think. Theo was lucky to find someone to keep him company after centuries of lonely existence, wandering around Tamriel without any clear destination or purpose. I should know because before I came to Skyrim I didn't have many chances to really connect with people, those that wouldn't kill me on sight, that is. I got used to solitude over those long years but that didn't mean I enjoyed it. The way I travelled now, with Laelette, Theo and now the ex-priest from Cyrodiil was a welcomed change of pace.

"But never mind that; how did you find us?"

"I suppose you could call it sheer luck." Aressius chuckled. "After collecting my reward for killing Sild, I suddenly had nothing to do. So I travelled around for a bit and listened to local gossip while at it. You can always learn potentially useful things that way."

"So what did you learn, then?" I asked. "Humor me, please."

"Things you should know already, and then some. The civil war is as furious as ever, Thalmor are prowling the land looking for 'heretics,' dragons have come back, destroyed Helgen... You probably won't believe me but I got chase by one while travelling through the forests of Falkreath."

Theo's jaw dropped. "You're joking."

"I wish I were... the damn beast nearly killed me. I had to wait in a cave until it grew tired and flew off. But that is not important." The priest took on a serious expression. "According to rumors, the fight between the Empire and the Stormcloaks isn't the only war going on here. Local vampire clans are getting organized; they do not hold back to remain unnoticed. I heard there was even an attack launched at Falkreath."

I frowned at the news. The same thing nearly happened to Morthal and only by chance the plot was discovered and foiled. I thought this was just one case, though. If things like this were happening all over the province... The question was: what prompted this sudden change in behavior?

"One vampire coven even tried to take over Morthal. I and a wizard named Falion wiped them all out."

"That's a good news, I suppose, but one clan destroyed won't make much difference overall, I'm afraid." Aressius shook his head. "I'm still yet to find out what is truly going on around here but a rise in organized attacks is a part of it. Just like the skirmish between two groups of vampires I witnessed a few days ago. It wasn't just a minor argument; they were literally fighting to death." He paused, looking deeply unsettled. "One group was stronger and completely annihilated the other, in spite of their pleas for mercy. Nothing good can come out of whatever is at work in here."

His retelling of the fight reminded me of our encounter with faux Vigilants. Nothing in the world said that all vampires had to be friends but we usually don't attack our kin on sight. And those vampires we met a week ago were extremely hostile to us, almost ready to attack. The way Aressius described what he saw, it seemed we managed to stumble into another clan war. One clan was clearly dominant in these lands and pushing back other clans, or even trying to eradicate them completely. This made it even more important to us to keep a low profile. One wrong step and whatever clan made claim on these lands would make sure to succeed where Thrafey and Vraseth clans failed.

"So, another clan war. I've seen enough of those." Theo grunted. "Anything else that might be of interest to us?"

The priest thought for a short while. "There might be... I've heard that a former vigilant named Isran is trying to revive the Dawnguard, an ancient order of vampire hunters that existed – and was eradicated – sometime in the Second Era."

Theo let out something between a chuckle and a groan. "Vampire hunters, splendid. As if we needed more trouble."

"This Dawnguard is still ways away from becoming a real threat so I wouldn't worry about them for now. Isran is busy rebuilding the old fort that served as the order's base. He isn't the only one, from what I've heard, though."

I raised an eyebrow at the priest's remark. "Oh?"

"There's an old fort southwest of Riften. Locals call it 'Darklight tower.'" Aressius explained. "It's mostly a crumbling ruin but the rumor has it that some noble from Cyrodiil moved in a few months ago and started rebuilding it. Arkay knows what possessed him to waste his coin on that place... but the construction work hasn't ceased since he claimed the fort for himself. Which must mean that whoever the man is, he must be pretty rich."

Theo huffed dismissively. "That's interesting and all but why should it concern us?"

Laelette was timid as ever, listening to our conversation in silence.

"I'm getting to that, friend. Practice some patience." The priest admonished softly. "The said noble arrived with some company on his own. The strange thing is, he never seems to ever leave the place and lets his subordinates deal with people such as Riften authorities, suppliers of building material and the like. And something tells me this has nothing to do with him being shy." He lowered his voice slightly. "But that's not the strangest thing; the works on the fort go on day _and_ night. No ordinary people would toil away in pitch dark, when there's greater chance of something snatching you away. I also heard that a group of brigands tried storming the place and relieve the noble of his riches. They were never seen or heard from again, just vanished without a trace."

"You're right." I voiced my thought. "It does seem rather suspicious."

"Exactly." Aressius nodded. "Count in the fact that the fort itself is situated far away from the rest of the civilisation, with the thick forest on one side and rock face on the other, and you have a solid basis for rumors... which say, by the way, that the fort is secretly a lair of necromancers, _or worse._ "

This actually might be worth looking into... Yes, our priority was tracking down and killing Venarus Vulpin but the covert war among vampires in Skyrim was another matter that required some investigation, especially when mortal settlements could be caught in the crossfire. "You know, we were tracking down a traitor that destroyed our clan centuries ago-"

"Yes, this Vulpin character; Theodric already told me about him." Aressius nodded.

"Last we know he was headed to the Rift, looking for a 'Bloodspring,' some kind of source of power." I explained. "You're welcome to join us, if you wish to, and if our path leads us nearby, we just might investigate this Darklight tower."

Out of the corner of my eye, I observed Theo, watching his reaction to my suggestion. I expected him to flat out refuse... but he did no such thing. "I suppose there's no harm in that. Not like we're any closer to catching Vulpin, anyway."

Your youngest member just nodded meekly. Oh Laelette... We'd have to work on that lack of confidence.

"Well, if no one has any objections, we'll set out at dusk." I turned then to Aressius. "There is something I want to show you. You'll find it very useful when you have to travel during daytime..."

The old priest couldn't be any happier.

* * *

 _Farlas_

 _10th Hearth Fire, Whiterun_

Whiterun hadn't changed a bit since our last visit. That was... over a week ago.

The locals continued living in blissful ignorace of the dragon crisis, like if the attack at the western watchtower was the end of it. Of course, some of the guardsmen who fought against Mirmulnir with us on that fateful day remembered with clarity what happened. Both with the dragon and the one who 'devoured its power.' Every now and then I would catch worshipful looks sent my way and it set me on edge. I would much prefer to be just another nameless citizen but that wasn't an option now. Ra'zahirr and his cousin joined with Ri'saad's caravan shortly after we arrived. The elder Khajiit offered aid anytime we needed; a nice sentiment but I didn't want to use that option unless absolutely needed. It was time I got more self-sufficient.

So far we heard nothing from Delphine; there was nothing else to do but try and make ourselves busy while we waited for the Blade's response. To this moment I couldn't believe what we got ourselves involved in. Infiltrating a Thalmor embassy? The Dominion would have us all skinned alive if they caught us snooping around. Delphine better have some solid plan; I didn't go through all the trouble just to end up tortured to death in a godsforsaken dungeon...

The first thing we did after entering the city was rent a room at The Bannered mare. I planned to find a forge and remake the steel plate armor for Lydia but I had no luck that day. The forge at the Warmaiden's was busy and would remain that way for most of the day and the famed Skyforge... Only Eorlund Grey-Mane could use it so that was out of the question, too. I've had only a few hours before dusk so I decided to try my luck with the Companions. No guarantee they would accept me but I had to try.

With all the things out there trying to kill me, like bandits, wildlife, rogue wizards and dragons, I would hardly survive without improving my fighting skills.

Jorrvask seemed to loom over me as I climbed the stairs leading to its entrance. Despite being the famed Nordic hero, I couldn't help it but feel small as I took in the large mead hall. The sight of it alone seemed enough for me to start having second thoughts. _Am I really cut out for this?_ Though deep down I knew that I couldn't keep running forever... like I did when I travelled to this land, leaving behind Cyrodiil, my home, my friends and the girl I loved. And I nearly did the same when I turned out to be a Dragonborn.

No, there's no turning back now. Running isn't something befitting of _a hero_ , right?

With a deep sigh, I pushed Jorrvaskr's front door open and entered.

The inside of the hall was dominated by a large fireplace straight in the middle, surrounded by large tables laden with food and drinks of all kinds. There were trophies hanged at the walls, as well as various weapons and banners, of both Companions and Whiterun. Then there were the warriors of Jorrvaskr; the way they carried themselves alone was telling volumes about their skill and experience in battle. These people were not to be trifled with...

I didn't get much time to take in the sights, however. Without any warning, a tankard flew out of nowhere and impacted on the wall to my left, missing me by inches and almost making me jump out of my own skin. Not only I got startled half to death but I got also showered by whatever the tankard contained.

Within the next few moments, chaos erupted inside the mead hall.

The warriors of Jorrvaskr gathered around a small open space next to the tables. I took a few steps closer to see what was going on. Nobody tried to stop me; in fact, I was ignored entirely. As I approached the crowd I finally saw what got them so interested; it was a brawl between a Nord woman and a Dark elf. The two combatants exchanged punches on a frantic pace and they were not holding back. And the onlookers didn't look worried in the slightest that their comrades were trying to kill each other.

No, they were actually _cheering._

"Knock him on his scrawny arse!"

"Make her eat dirt!"

"What are you doing? Keep those hands up!"

"Mess 'im up!"

"Twenty Septims on Athis!"

"I'll take that!"

And they were even betting on them... The second thoughts were back, stronger than before.

I started backing away, only to bump into someone.

I turned around to apologize. "Oh sorry, I didn't mean to..." The words died in my throat when I was faced with a tall balding Nord clad in steel armor, the like of what I'd never seen before. Plates of metal mixed with grey wolf fur, the gauntlets and the cuirass adorned with a symbol of a wolf's head; maybe this kind of armor was only specific for Companions, though I wasn't certain given that some members didn't wear the same outfit. What I did know for sure was that I didn't like the look the Nord was giving me. Was he sizing me up? Or just trying to scare me into fleeing the hall with that hard glare of his? Though I didn't know what kind of message his silvery grey eyes were trying to convey, it couldn't have been anything good.

"Is there a problem?" I asked carefully.

A few nerve-racking moments passed before the Nord answered. "I've never seen you around here before... but I can't help it but find you familiar..." _What?_ I've never seen that man in my life but he claimed he somehow met me in the past? I would've remember seeing a character like him... but maybe he just ran into someone that looked like me. "No matter..." I was just about to say that to myself. "This is Jorrvaskr, home of the Companions." The man said sternly. "We don't let just anyone walk around in here... unless you actually have a business with us, stranger."

 _Well, here goes nothing,_ I thought to myself.

"I wish to join the Companions," I replied. "And I've been told Kodlak Whitemane is the one I should talk to."

Much to my displeasure, the Nord scoffed at my answer. " _You_ wish to join? There were stronger men than you asking to join us and the Harbinger refused them. What makes you think you can get in?" I could literally feel my face burning with embarrassment. And as if his dismissive attitude wasn't bad enough, the bastard had the nerve to start chuckling. "Though it's possible you have something they didn't... You might even make it with some luck... _and_ a whole lot of begging."

I had a sudden urge to Shout him through a wall... but unfortunately I couldn't have them know I was the famed Dragonborn. It would attract the wrong kind of attention, not to mention that I wanted to earn my place with the Companions. But all those reasons didn't mean I would let the Nord get away with mocking me like that.

"Begging? I think you mistook me for someone else, _old man._ " I shot back, struggling to keep my voice leveled. "Now, if you kindly tell me where I can find the Harbinger, I'll be out of your hair and you can go back to insulting everyone you meet."

I expected a lecture, a whole lot more insults, or even a sword being drawn... but the Nord threw his head back and laughed, much to my ire. "A touchy one, aren't you? Fine, fine; you'll find Kodlak in the living quarters, just down the stairs over there." He pointed at somewhere behind him. "Who knows, maybe he'll be in a generous mood today?"

 _I'll kill you, insolent worm... Alright, where the Oblivion did_ that _come from?_

Offering no response, I pushed past the Nord and headed to the staircase that led down to the living quarters. It took a bit more stumbling around and asking for directions before I finally reached the Harbinger's quarters. And luckily no one aside from the old caretaker woman was around to witness all that.

Kodlak was in the middle of a conversation with another Companion when I entered his room. It was literally impossible to mistake the Harbinger for someone else as he was a man of impressive stature, in spite of his age, given away by white hair and beard reaching down to his chest. His conversation partner, on the other hand, bore a striking resemblance to Farkas, the warrior I met when I first came to Whiterun, only nowhere near as brawny. And he wasn't nowhere near as congenial, too. In fact he was looking at me like if I were a piece of refuse.

"Is there something I can help you with, lad?" The Harbinger asked politely.

 _No turning back now..._

"I wish to join the Companions, sir."

"Don't 'sir' me, lad. We're all equals here." The Harbinger huffed, though his eyes were shining with mirth. The Farkas' look-a-like just kept glaring. "Step closer so I can have a look at you; my eyes aren't what they used to be." I did as he asked, taking a few steps towards him. "Hmm... Yes, a certain strength of spirit..." He mused aloud. I couldn't help it but feel perplexed. He could tell things from a single look? Could it be that he realized I was Dragonborn?

It was then when the doppelganger chose to intervene. "Master, you're not truly considering accepting him?!" He sounded so incredulous when he said that I wanted to give him a piece of my mind. But this was not the time nor the place to make a scene.

Kodlak gave the other Nord a leveled look. "I'm nobody's master, Vilkas." So that was the grouch's name... "And last I checked, Jorrvaskr has a place for those with a fire burning in their hearts."

"Apologies, but perhaps this isn't the time." Vilkas argued. "I've never even heard about this outsider."

So much for the famous Nordic hospitality...

"Sometimes the famous come to us." The Harbinger continued. "Sometimes men and women come to us to seek their fame. It makes no difference. What matters is their heart."

"And their arm..." Vilkas muttered to himself. We still heard what he said, though.

"Very true." Kodlak remarked before addressing me. "How are you in a fight, boy?"

That was a very good question; one that required a careful answer that would reflect everything that happened upon arriving into this cold unforgiving land. "I'm good enough to keep myself alive, but I'm always ready to learn." I couldn't let myself look like an incompetent fool, could I?

Somehow this answer was enough for the Harbinger. "That's the right attitude, boy. Vilkas here will test you mettle." The sour look on Vilkas' face was absolutely priceless.

"That won't be necessary, Harbinger. I can take care of it."

I spun around and was faced with the same Nord that mocked me earlier when I first entered the mead hall.

Kodlak shrugged in response. "If you say so, Skjor." And just like that, my fate was sealed. I knew it wasn't my choice but I would almost prefer Vilkas...

The smug bastard, known as Skjor, smirked at Vilkas. "You owe me one, don't forget that." Vilkas grumbled something unintelligible under his breath. He turned around to leave the room, gesturing me to follow. "Come on, new blood. Let's see what you're worth."

I followed the Nord out of the living quarters, wondering what I've gotten myself into.

* * *

Skjor led me out into the courtyard right behind the mead hall. There were several practice targets and dummies placed along the wall. A few Companion members were hanging out on the porch, watching the two of us with interest. I also noticed the two fighters that brawled earlier; the Dark elf was sporting a massive black eye.

I couldn't help it but think Skjor decided to test me just because he saw an opportunity to humiliate me. It was even worse when we had spectators nearby.

We stopped dead in the center of the yard. "Alright, whelp." Skjor said. "Kodlak wanted me to test you, so that's what I'm going to do. Don't know what he saw in you, given that he didn't throw you out right away, but I'm gonna find out." I caught a few chuckles from the spectators.

My hand automatically reached for the greatsword on my back and tore it out of the holster, earning a strange look from Skjor. "Do you even know how to use a blade like that, boy?"

I gritted my teeth at the jeering remark. "Go ahead and find out for yourself, _baldy._ " I snapped back, loudly enough for everyone to hear.

Strangely, Skjor remained unaffected. "Fine with me, boy. Just don't complain if they have to carry you out of here." Within moments, the sword at his belt was out and he charged. I lifted my own weapon just in time to deflect a jab at my chest.

I was quickly pushed into defensive. Skjor had a shorter blade so he was faster and more agile. All I could do was defend against his strikes and hope for an opening. Skjor was a skilled warrior, though... and I was beginning to feel it.

I did my best to keep the offending blade away. So far, my opponent failed to land a hit, though not for the lack of trying. He didn't give me much opportunity for a counterattack, either. Once or twice I managed to parry and lash out on my own. Skjor dodged the first time and the second he blocked seemingly without effort.

"Are you just gonna stand there and take it? Fight back!" Someone in the crowd yelled.

Skjor's blade shot forward.

I was in the right position to dodge and attack right away. Skjor, momentarily disoriented, barely managed to lift his sword in time to stop the incoming blow.

The blades clashed in a shower of sparks. The sheer force of the impact made the older warrior stumble a bit. Sensing a chance I kept pushing on, swinging again and again just to deny him an opportunity for a counterattack.

The strategy worked for a short time... until Skjor sidestepped the next blow. I missed and the momentum of my greatsword threw me off balance. And then I got smacked in the head with a pommel of the sword so hard I saw stars.

The world seemed to spin around me and everything was like a blur. I swung my blade blindly and a loud clang told me I somehow managed to stop another attack. I tried again but failed to hit anything.

And then the sword was sent flying out of my hand.

It was over. All thanks to a cheap move.

I heard a sword being sheathed, despite the ringing in my ears. "Well, well, you've actually got some skills; that's good, I suppose." Skjor commented, his expression unreadable. "But you're also reckless and impatient... and those two things get people killed. If you really want to become one of us, you're gonna have to work your skin off to earn your place here."

This wasn't really the kind of assessment I was hoping for... but I had to admit that Skjor was much more skilled than I was. He obviously knew what he was talking about.

"Farkas!" He barked out. A tall brawny Nord stepped out of the crowd and approached; the guy I met after a battle with the giant near Whiterun. That felt like ages ago...

"You called?"

"Who else would I call, Ice-Brain?" Skjor shot back. "Show our _new member_ here," He gestured to me. "Where the rest of the whelps sleep."

My heart threatened to stop. So I was a Companion now? This wasn't a dream?

Farkas contemplated me from head to toe. "Oh yea, I remember you." He rumbled. His response elicited quiet murmurs in the crowd. "Come on."

Stunned beyond giving any other response than a simple nod, I followed the man back inside Jorrvaskr.

We descended down to the living quarters. In the main hall I noticed the red-headed archer sitting at the table. She was looking straight at me as I followed Farkas, a smirk tugging at her lips. It seemed I caught her attention; no idea if it was a good or bad thing, though.

"Skjor and Aela like to tease me, but they're good people. They challenge us to be our best." The man talked as we went. "It's nice to have a new face around 'ere. It gets pretty boring in here sometimes." Farkas was like a polar opposite of Vilkas; maybe not terribly smart but nice, almost unbelievably so. I wondered if the two of them were related. "It's been a while since we first met but I knew you'd end up here eventually."

Farkas led me into a large room with several beds and cupboards placed along the walls. It looked like sleeping quarters, though empty at the time. "And this is it. Younger members sleep here. Just pick a bed and fall in when you're tired. The old lady, Tilma, keeps the place clean, as always."

I gave a nod. "Thanks."

"Other people will probably wanna meet ya so I wouldn't go to sleep yet." Farkas grinned. "If you're lookin' for work talk to me or Aela. Once you've made a name for yourself, Skjor and my brother, Vilkas, might 'ave somethin' for ya too. Good luck and welcome to the Companions."

Maybe this wouldn't be as bad as I thought.

* * *

Author's note: _And here comes another update this month, just as I promised the last time. On Monday this week I had the first part of final exams... I passed, thankfully. Let's hope I can keep this up for the next three.  
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 _ _ _ _ _Anyway, I'd like to thank all of you guys for reading, review (I'm talking about you,_____ Naruto loves FemKyuubi _ _ _ _ _and_____ ShpperofTrashyShips), _ _ _ _ _favorite or follow; and I wish all of you___ very merry Christmas and happy New Year, and may all your wishes come true!__


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